


Vhenan

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Vhenan and Associated Stories (Lyna Lavellan) [36]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Isabela/Merrill - Freeform, Rewrite of Earlier Version, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: Solas, the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel, has left Lyna behind in an attempt to fix mistakes made thousands of years ago. Willing to destroy everything for his goals, he doesn't realize exactly how determined Lyna is to show him a better path. Both worlds could thrive, given the chance. Her world is real and valid and deserves a chance, but so does his. There must be a middle ground.And there is another reason that Lyna must find Solas, a secret kept from the world that attempted to put her up on a pedestal. But how would Thedas react to such a secret, such undeniable proof that their Herald of Andraste is a person like any other? That she is someone who loves, someone who makes mistakes, who bleeds and cries. And is having the Dread Wolf's child.(This is a complete rewrite of itself. Though the core of it is the same, this story will turn out drastically different from the original version, which has been deleted.)





	1. A Well of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Constructive criticism please? And if you read the original version, tell me if this better and why! Please and thank you.

“I begged you not to drink from the Well!” Solas all but yelled, startlingly angry, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Why could you not have listened?”

“Solas…” Lyna said as calmly as she could manage, hoping to soothe him, though she’d never before been the subject of his wrath.

“You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!” He paced before his latest mural, the blue pigment of the Well of Sorrows reflecting the light of the nearby torch.

She frowned, confused by his wording, wanting, as always, to understand. “What does that mean, exactly?” she asked softly.

He seemed to crumple, a deep sigh leaving him, his anger bleeding into resignation as he said, “You are Mythal’s creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.” He stopped and sighed again as he faced her, resignation blending into sorrow that she didn’t understand. “You have given up a part of yourself.”

Ridiculous. She scowled at him, feeling her own temper surge unexpectedly. “You don’t even believe in the ancient elven gods!” His lips thinned as his jaw clenched, anger resurfacing.

“I don’t believe they were gods, no, but I believe that they existed! _Something_ existed to start the legends! If not gods then mages, or spirits, or something we’ve never seen.” He leaned forward aggressively, punctuating his words with a savage gesture. “And you are bound to one of them now.”

Solas stopped abruptly and looked away from her, breathing deeply in an attempt to reign in his temper. Lyna frowned, watching, concerned about him more than she was about herself; she’d never seen him this upset. Mostly, he held himself aloof, calmly observing the world around him without seeming to be a part of it. The little scar on his forehead was being pulled out of shape by his scowl, and she wanted nothing more than to smooth it out and kiss away his fears. But she knew he wouldn’t let her, that he’d pull away and become even more unreachable than before.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus.” He met her eyes with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “Which leads to the next logical question: What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?”

“The war proved that we can’t go back to the way things were,” she told him, thinking of the many dead bodies they’d seen, slain by mages or Templars or caught in between, those left homeless and hungry, those the Inquisition couldn’t save. She even mourned those who had gone rogue, the red Templars and the Venatori; surely somewhere in history if someone had made a different choice they wouldn’t have felt the need to commit the crimes they stood accused of. “I’ll try to help this world move forward,” she said with conviction. Surely something she knew or had seen or had learned from the Well of Sorrows could offer a solution, or part of one.

“You would risk everything you have in the hope that the future is better? What if it isn’t?” Solas asked, strangely intense, as if her answer meant more to him than the question implied. “What if you wake up to find the future you shaped is worse than what was?”

Lyna frowned, trying to read him, to figure him out, and, as ever, coming up empty. “I’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again,” she told him.

“Just like that?” he asked, almost incredulous. She smiled a little.

“If we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right,” she reminded him.

He returned the smile, suddenly not nearly so upset. The stiff set of his shoulders softened. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor.” He paused at her sharp look and amended his statement with a purr, “Lyna. You have… impressed me,” he told her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And she felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. _She_ impressed _him?_ She was just a Dalish girl, thrown into the middle of these events by chance. She wasn’t nearly as interesting or impressive as he was. Though he had praised her intelligence and willingness to learn on many occasions, calling it a rare gift, she had always thought she could never compare to the spirits of the Fade he’d introduced her to. It was surreal to hear that he thought so highly of her. She knew he loved her and respected her both as a woman and as Inquisitor, but she knew this was something else, knew the standard to which he compared the world. “You have offered hope,” he continued while she blinked at him, “that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grace, that someday things will be better.” He looked away again, though a small smile played on his lips. “Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, and its stolen power… That, at least, we may still recover. With luck, some of the past may yet survive.”

She decided it was time to jolt him out of this melancholy, as he put it. So she smiled slyly and said, “You’re being grim and fatalistic in hope of getting me into bed, aren’t you?”

His serious expression remained fixed, but his eyes danced. “I _am_ grim and fatalistic,” he told her. Then his expression broke into a warm smile, eyes teasing. “Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just?” she asked, teasing. He chuckled, and held out his hand.

“Come with me, vhenan,” he said, suddenly eager. She took his hand with a smile and let him lead her out of the rotunda, then out of Skyhold altogether. He took her down a winding, narrow path she hadn’t traveled before. It wound down the mountain away from the enormous camp where most of the Inquisition’s people lived and worked and trained.

“Where are we going?” Lyna asked after a while, curious. Solas brought her hand, which he still held in his, to his lips and sent her pulse racing with a gentle kiss on her knuckles. He smiled, no doubt sensing the sudden heat he’d sent shooting through her body. Bastard.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief. She swallowed hard, trying to shove down her arousal, and said nothing else as he led her down what she was becoming increasingly certain was a goat trail.

The pink and orange of sunset was fading when she spied a cave ahead. “I didn’t bring my bow,” she told him redundantly; he could obviously see that she was unarmed except for the small knife that never left her person. He chuckled.

“You won’t need it,” he assured her. “Nothing and no one comes this way except for the goats that made this path and the occasional rabbit.”

“And nothing hunts the goats?” she asked archly. He smiled.

“Nothing a little magic cannot scare away.” She sighed dramatically, and he raised a brow in challenge. She said nothing, keeping her chin high in mocking protest. She had no doubt he could keep them safe, but she still enjoyed needling him. He squeezed her hand, enjoying her efforts.

The cave they entered was very dark, but not dark enough that Solas felt he needed to cast light. Water cascaded down the walls with a musical sound, and instead of seeming creepy and ominous as caves frequently did to Lyna it cast an atmosphere of wonder and soft pleasure.

Solas laced his fingers with hers and bumped her shoulder lightly. She looked at him and he gestured ahead with his chin, so she looked. The cave opened just ahead on a moonlit glen. She gasped when she saw a pair of giant statues to Ghilan’nain facing each other on either side of a small pool fed by three narrow waterfalls, the harts’ antlers reaching up as if they would touch the sky. Elfroot grew at the statues’ feet and the water glittered in the moonlight. The area was walled off naturally by stone, the tops too rocky to allow spies or assassins to go unnoticed. The grass was soft beneath her feet, and the musical waterfalls made her want to dance. The flowers that grew here and there added a sweet scent to the strangely warm breeze. Solas squeezed her hand a little, and she squeezed back, smiling at him. A warm look flowed over his face, heating his gaze, and he led her into the glen. They walked slowly, their clasped hands swinging between them, until he stopped not far from the water’s edge.

“The Veil is thin here,” he said softly, touching her cheek gently and sending delicious shivers through her. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” He removed his hand, and warm tingles did indeed take its place. She touched her face, enjoying and unnerved by the unfamiliar sensations, then looked up at him. He was so close, the stars sparkling in his eyes. Just a little closer and she could take his lips before he even realized what she was doing. One corner of his mouth turned up a little, and she knew he saw exactly what she was thinking on her face. She was, after all, staring rather intently at his lips. She tilted her head a little to the exact angle that would be best for a kiss, all but begging him to take it.

Instead, he said, “I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.” His thumb moved, caressing her wrist as he held her hand a little tighter, almost as if he were nervous. But that seemed silly; Solas was confident in nearly all he did.

Lyna gave him a small smile. “I’m listening,” she told him. “And I can offer a few suggestions.” She stared hard at his mouth again, taking a breath so that her breasts stretched the material of her shirt taught.

A slight blush delicately colored his cheeks, startling her; Solas never blushed. “I shall bear that in mind,” he said, smiling and refusing to show any sign of being flustered. “For now,” he continued as she smirked at him, “the best gift I can offer is… the truth.” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “You are unique,” he told her softly, and it was her turn to blush. “In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.”

His words, spoken softly with an air of simple truth, as if these sentiments were simple facts of life that he could not and would not change, moved her greatly.

“As you are to me,” she told him when he paused, slightly surprised that her voice didn’t waver as her heart pounded in her chest. He smiled, just a little.

“Then what I must tell you… The truth…” he said, and a shadow passed behind his eyes for just a moment, gone almost as soon as it arrived. He paused, breath in his lungs and mouth open to continue, and she waited. When he seemed frozen, she squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him, and he blinked and then continued.

“Your face,” he said at last. “The Vallaslin.” Lyna resisted the urge to touch the slightly raised sacred tattoos on her face. She wore the symbols of Mythal, the Mother and Protector, and had ever since she had come of age. The dark purple lines depicted branches crisscrossing her forehead and cheekbones into her hairline with a line from her mouth spreading down her chin. “In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.”

“She frowned, confused. “They honor the elven gods,” she told him, as she had been told since she was old enough to ask.

“No,” Solas said softly, shaking his head. “They are slave markings. Or, at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.”

Lyna took a half step back, her confusion blending into something approaching horror. “My clan’s Keeper said they honored the gods. These are their symbols.” _Please be wrong,_ she thought desperately. _Please let this be the one thing he has wrong._

“Yes,” he told her, soft and sad. “That’s right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot.”

She felt tears gathering and tried to step them. “So this is… what? Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong?” She had learned more about her people with Solas and the Inquisition than she had studying with her Keeper and hahren. She did not doubt his word, had learned long before that he would not say a thing he did not know, without a doubt, to be true, but it sent a knife of pain into her heart. Her people had ever refused to be slaves, to succumb to those who saw them as inferior. They were Dalish because, when the Dales fell, they refused to give in. But this was wrong. Her people should have known.

“I’m sorry,” Solas said, though Lyna wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for her pain, for telling her, or for how much her people were wrong about.

She took a deep, unsteady breath and looked away. “We try to preserve our culture,” she said haltingly, “and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter?”

With gentle fingers under her chin, he lifted her face so that she would look at him. “Don’t say that,” he told her softly. “For all the Dalish got wrong, they did one thing right.” He smiled, just a little, and it changed his sorrowful and almost guilty look to one of pride. “They made you.” She smiled and gave a watery half laugh. He was just trying to lessen the sting the truth; she knew he didn’t think much of her people and she knew he had just reasons for that. But she had worn slave markings with pride for half her life, had looked on with envy as her clan mates received theirs, and he knew this hurt her.

“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you,” he told her earnestly. She’d known that, of course, that he shared the knowledge simply so that she would know. But the truth was not always kind. “If you like, I know a spell.” Her eyes widened as she guessed where he was headed with this. “I can remove the Vallaslin.” She looked away, and his hand fell away from her face, reluctantly. She took a deep breath and thought about it.

“These marks have been a part of me for so long,” she said slowly. “I don’t know if…”

“I’m so sorry for causing you pain,” he said, and the small hitch in his voice revealed exactly how much her pain affected him. “It was selfish of me.” That got her to look at him. Selfish? He was many things, but selfish? “I look at you and I see what you truly are.” His hand lifted as if he wanted to touch her face again, but he lowered it before he did. She wished he hadn’t; she craved his touch almost like a drug. “And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.”

She looked into his eyes and saw with perfect clarity, for the first time, exactly what he felt for her. Though she had known that he cared for her, _ar lath ma_ whispered in her ear on many occasions, the strength of love she saw there in those blue depths was enough to frighten her and make her want to hold him and never let go. His eyes shone with affection and tenderness, and suddenly she felt ridiculous for ever having thought that all his sweet words were not meant with perfect sincerity, with the same intensity that filled every word he said to her. But she was just a woman, Dalish, and her people had been unkind to him. She was only a hunter, her feet firmly in waking though she was slowly learning to shape her dreams. But he was a storyteller of incredible wisdom, and he wielded magic she’d never seen or heard of elsewhere. Coincidence had placed the Anchor on her hand, and necessity had driven her to use it to close the rifts they encountered. Her title of Inquisitor felt more honorary than true to her. She did little without the advice and consent of her advisors and there was so much she had no power to change.

And Solas… He was wise and worldly. He had seen things she could never have dreamed of, had walked the world and the Fade and learned so much more than she could imagine. He was strong and brave, fighting his enemies with a ferocity few could rival. And yet he was compassionate and understanding. He saw his enemies as living people, not merely as obstacles or abstract threats. He had played, and won, an entire game of chess with Iron Bull using neither board nor pieces, only the power of his incredible mind. What could one little Dalish girl be to a man like him?

And yet the truth shone in his eyes. Lyna could be many wonderful things to a man like him, it seemed. And suddenly, with an urgency that nearly staggered her, she wanted it all in a way she had never allowed herself before. She wanted this man before her. She wanted his love and to love him in return. She wanted a life with him. Could that even be possible?

But she had a choice to make, and she would always choose freedom. It was an ideal that was so much a part of her that she had fought against even being claimed by her former lovers, unwilling to tie herself to them. But Solas only ever sought to set her free, and she wanted this. She took a deep breath and said, “Then cast your spell. Take the Vallaslin away.” He smiled, and the love in his eyes shone even brighter, if possible.


	2. A Well of Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

Solas gestured to a flat spot clear of the slightly thorny flowers nearby. “Sit,” he said as he led Lyna there. They knelt, facing each other, and her heart felt like it would pound its way out of her ribcage. To be rid of the Vallaslin? The marks that showed that she was Dalish, that she would never submit to slavery and oppression? But to be truly Dalish in spirit as well as deed, the marks needed to be removed. She would write to her people, tell them the truth. The other clans would be told at the next Arlathvhen. The practice of bestowing Vallaslin as a rite of passage into adulthood might even be abandoned in light of the truth. Her people would never submit to mastery by another, and these slave marks would not be tolerated. It would feel strange to be without the Vallaslin, but she couldn’t keep it now that she knew what it meant. Maybe Solas could teach his spell to her Keeper.

He raised his hands before her and a bright light gathered in his palms. It was beautiful, pale green and swirling with power. He brought his hands closer and she felt a gentle tingling along the lines of her Vallaslin. She closed her eyes against both the light and the feeling as it spread from the center of her face outward. After a few moments the feeling dissipated and the light that bled through her eyelids faded. It took her a few more seconds to work up the courage to open her eyes and look at him, now barefaced and bereft.

“Ar lasa mala revas,” Solas said, making it sound oddly ceremonial. When Lyna looked at him, he returned her gaze as though thunderstruck, wonder crossing his features. “You are free.” He took her hands and helped her to her feet.

She bit her lip and studied his features while he studied hers. What did she look like now, without the Vallaslin covering the top half and spreading across her chin with its intricate designs? Did he still this she was attractive? Did she look strange, alien even? She’d worn the marks since she was thirteen and she had no idea what her face would look like now, free of them.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her softly, reverently. _Am I?_ she wondered. _Am I?_

He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away, as if she ever would. When his lips finally met hers, she was electrified. Though they had kissed many times before, devouring each other in dark corners and in their shared tent in the field, this time it felt different somehow. Maybe it was just that the Fade pressed so close around them, maybe it was the freedom she didn’t know she needed so much, but she could feel something shift between them. Something new was opening as he wrapped his arms around her, one dragging her closer by the waist, the other gently holding her head where he wanted it. She gripped his arm with one hand and dug her nails into his shoulder with the other, trying not to try, trying not to swallow him whole.

When he pressed his lower body against her, slipping one leg between them to get as close as he could, she gasped and broke the kiss as she felt the hot, hard weight of him against her lower abdomen. He relinquished her mouth and kissed across her cheek as her breaths started to come faster, his hand dipping from her waist to her backside and squeezing the generous curves he found there. He nipped the tip of one of her sharply pointed ears and she moaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut, as the sensation sent a jolt of lightning to the exact spot his manhood pressed into her, and she trembled.

A low, sensual chuckle vibrated his chest and sent shivers down her back. His mouth brushed down her cheek until he pressed a soft kiss to her jaw. Then he moved still further down and nibbled the strong tendon in the side of her neck, causing her to let loose a low moan and clutch him tighter, arching her hips against him, desperate for more. He licked the length of her neck, a smooth, wet glide, and her head fell back in open and vulnerable invitation as she surrendered to him. She was breathing in quick pants, shivers traveling up and down her arms. When he started to move against her, thrusting slowly, gently, against her secret core as he kissed and nipped her neck, her mouth opened on a long moan as her fingers dug into his skin, dragging him ever closer. It was new, more than he’d dared before, and she wanted more. She wanted all of it, all of him. She was almost beyond thought by then, barely more than a vessel to be filled with sensation, desperate for more of him. He pulled back, just a little, letting his warm breath ghost over her damp and sensitized neck, until she grabbed his head and pulled him closer. He chuckled softly, then sucked her flesh into his mouth and marked it with his teeth, a sweet agony of claiming and possession that made her knees weak. Before she realized what she was doing, she had untied and removed his belt. He released her neck and bit her collarbone, then froze when her hands made contact with the smooth, bare skin of his back under his shirt.

“Are you certain?” he asked, whispering the words against her skin, causing gooseflesh to spread across her chest and down her arms, hardening her nipples. She knew what he was asking. Likely he knew that she had never done this before. Many of the Dalish waited until they were married to know another intimately, though it was not forbidden or even frowned up, at least in her clan, to dally with someone before then.

She nodded, her cheek brushing against the sensitive tip of his ear, and felt the gooseflesh that formed beneath her fingers along his skin, matching hers. “Yes. I am. If you are,” she told him unsteadily. She was truly ready, and she wanted it to be with him. She desperately wanted to know him this way, to claim him with teeth and tongue and hands and body. She wanted to sheathe his blade in her flesh and feel him melt into her skin.

He nodded slowly, a shiver running through him, and began kissing below her collarbone as his hands moved to the buttons down the front of her shirt. In order to undress each other, they had to separate a little, put enough space between them that they could maneuver their clothing. Without his warm body pressed against hers she felt cold, but his heated kisses soon remedied that.

She unlaced his shirt blindly, her head limp on her neck as he kissed the skin each undone button revealed down her front. He stopped when she tugged at his shirt and leaned back to let her pull it off of him before returning to his task.

She ran her hands over his chest in long strokes, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles under smooth skin and the intense heat of him. Her hands trailed lower until she tugged and fumbled with the laces on his trousers, a tremor overtaking her as he kissed between her breasts. Instead of greedily parting the cloth to see more of them, he continued to undo buttons, kissing the spot where each had rested on her skin. And yet it was more intimate, more loving, than if he had done as she expected and hastily revealed the swells of her breasts. It said very clearly the he thought she was beautiful in her entirety and no one part was more important to him than any other. And perhaps he enjoyed drawing it out, waiting to reveal more of her flesh, building his own anticipation.

She finally managed to unlace his trouser as he reached for the last button. He moved before she could pull the cloth down his hips and she summoned the will to look at him. He knelt before her, his chin level with her navel. Arousal and mischief burned in his eyes and the little tilt to his lips as he pulled free the final button. His fingers lingered, lightly brushing over her belly, causing her to tremble. He kissed the flesh he had revealed but did not reveal more. He simply lingered there, touching her gently, until a desperate mewling sound passed her lips and she clutched his shoulders. He grinned up at her and slid his hands under the halves of her shirt. He ran those talented hands up over her belly and slowly apart, the material following his motions, the callouses on his long fingers causing her to shiver hard. A ragged exhale left him as her breasts were finally revealed, almost like he’d taken a blow to the stomach. She watched him swallow hard and shivered again from the intense weight of his gaze, nearly as physical as his hands where they rested on her hips.

She bit her lips, waiting for something, anything, some reaction to what he was seeing. Suddenly, he surged up and took one nipple between his lips. She cried out sharply, surprise and pleasure warring, and swayed, catching herself on his shoulders before she fell. He moaned, a sound of profound ecstasy, and rolled her nipple with his tongue. Her head fell back in pleasure, but she forced herself to find the strength to look at him. His fingers flexed on her hips, holding her precisely where he wanted her. His brows were drawn tightly down, a fierce concentration showing on his face, overlaid by a look of euphoric pleasure as he sucked slowly on the sensitive tip of her breasts.

When he nipped his teeth across the flesh she gasped and grabbed his head to hold him to her, wantonly throwing her head back and thrusting her chest out to him. Pleasure flashed through her body like fire, spreading out from his mouth. He began running his hands up and down her back, gripping her ass before gliding across her waist, as if desperate for more of her skin.

After nipping her one more time he kissed his way across her chest to her other breast and tended to it just as thoroughly. Finally, in desperation, she moaned his name, barely recognizing her own voice. He moaned in return, clutching her tighter, clearly not wanting to give up his prize.

“Solas,” she moaned again, rubbing her thighs together, feeling unbearably empty. “Please…” She wasn’t even certain what she was asking for, just that she needed it with a desperation unlike any she had ever known. He sighed as he released her nipple, sending shivers across her skin, then abruptly knocked her off her feet. She cried out in alarm, her heart pounding with adrenaline, but he caught her before she hit the ground and laid her gently on the grass. He laughed at her startled expression, genuine amusement lighting his features, softening his sharp cheekbones as he teased, and she grimaced at him, blushing deeply. His grin stayed in place as he unlaced and removed her boots. She sat up on her elbows, unable to resist watching the play of muscle in his chest and arms as he moved. The moonlight haloed his skin in fascinating ways, the contours of his chest shifting as he moved. When he reached for her other boot and managed to miss, she looked at his face in surprise. He was staring intently at her chest, watching the way her breasts moved as she breathed. She laughed; she couldn’t help it. The infectious sound of her laughter, her pleasure, caused him to laugh as well, though he made sure not to miss the way her laughter shook her.

“A little distracted over there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He met her eyes.

“Yes,” he replied bluntly, easily, unashamedly, then returned to his task while she blushed. Once he drew off her boot, he crawled up her body, placing gentle kisses on her still-clothed legs along the way. She tried not to squirm under his attention and mostly failed, her body arching to him and begging for his touch. He stopped at her waist, dropping light kisses on her belly as he unlaced her pants. He met her eyes before he drew them off of her, seeking approval. She nodded and her breath hitched when he rewarded her with a brilliant smile, teeth flashing in the moonlight, eyes dancing with glee. Gently, he eased the fabric past her hips, down her legs, and off. And just like that, she was utterly naked before him, laid out in offering on the grass. His eyes raking her form, half closed and reverent, and she squirmed a little, suddenly uncomfortable. He noticed, of course, and his gaze met hers.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked softly. She knew that he would if she asked, that he would never force her into this, but she could also see how very much he wanted to continue, his erection straining the front of his loosened breeches in desperation. And it wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with this, precisely; she had been naked in front of others before, lovers and her clan. It was simply that no one had ever before beheld her form with such breathless wonder, as if she were glorious, a work of art to be savored and worshipped and memorized. Any previous lover she’d had, though she’d never allowed them inside her, had rushed through this part, quick to chase her pleasure so that they could receive theirs. Yet Solas lingered, touching her slowly, revealing her body slowly, savoring every moment. She was not uncomfortable, just a little overwhelmed. So she smiled at him.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. He smiled back and moved up until he could cover her with his body, the heat of his skin doing much to melt away her hesitation.

His mouth met hers, his tongue gently seeking, asking but never demanding, and gaining entrance. He parted her legs with one knee and rested between them, but the feel of the fabric of his pants was wrong. It separated her skin from his, and that was suddenly unacceptable.

“Take off your pants,” she demanded, her tone harsher than she’d intended. He laughed, startled, and kissed her nose.

“Ma nuvenin,” he said, grinning, and she flushed. He lifted himself away and finished stripping, returning before she had time to complain about how cold she felt without him there on top of her, the heat of his body chasing away any lingering chill from the night. This time, when he slid a leg between hers, skin met skin and she sighed with the rightness of it. Her eyes slid to half-mast and she held him tightly against her.

He took her mouth again, sliding one hand into her ivory hair to hold her head at the proper angle. She wrapped her arms around him, exploring the fascinating play of muscle under the satiny skin of his back, already starting to grow slick with perspiration. When he bit her lip, a shock of sharpness and pleasing pain, her nails dug into his backside and caused him to rock his hips sharply into hers. She gasped at the hard, hot weight that came to rest between her legs, breaking the kiss.

Once that flesh met her skin he moaned and couldn’t seem to control the slow rocking of his hips that ground it against her and sent electric shivers through her core. He took her mouth again, hard, thrusting with his tongue, before withdrawing.

“I have to know,” he breathed against her lips before starting to slide back down her body. “I have to know how you taste.” She gasped as heat and lightning pooled in her core at the way his eyes darkened with his intent. She hadn’t expected him to want to do this. She had never experienced it before and had always been curious, and the idea that he would receive pleasure as he gave it to her sent shivers through her and made her fingers curl with anticipation where they rested against his skin. What little experience she had with men had taught her that they were quick to take pleasure and slow to give it, but Solas seemed eager to prove that preconception wrong. His wise and observant gaze took in each shiver of pleasure, each gasp and sigh, and figured out news ways to make her come undone. He seemed to genuinely enjoy making her writhe for him.

Solas kissed, licked, and nibbled his way down her body. With the lightest of touches he caressed her thighs, asking, not demanding, entrance. She granted him access, parting her legs for him, and he settled himself on the ground between them, gazing hungrily at her most private flesh and she could feel the heat in her cheeks spread down her neck. He licked his lips, a greedy light in his eyes, and gently, tenderly, kissed the top of her slit, eliciting a sharp moan from her. The warm, wet touch of his tongue followed, delving carefully through the folds of flesh. She gasped at the sensation, the wetness of his tongue finding the wetness of her core, an entirely different sensation than anything she had felt before, and fell back off her elbows to lay flat on the ground, surrendering to him. Then he pressed his open mouth against her core and flicked his tongue at her entrance. She cried out and he moaned low, the sound reverberating through the ground below them.

“Delicious,” he groaned in a whisper, causing her to tremble with mindless heat, then set upon her in a frenzy, licking and sucking her flesh, penetrating her with his tongue, until she was writhing beneath him, held to his tongue by his hands and will alone. She felt the heat building in her core with each wet touch and knew she was nearing her peak, though it would be stronger than anything she’d felt before.

“Solas!” she cried a little desperately. “I’m close!” He groaned into her, his fingers digging into her thighs, then slipped one finger inside. She screamed at the sensation, the single digit filling her deliciously, her back arching up, her hands clenching into fists beside her, and she came apart for him. He drank her in, moaning his pleasure as he brought her to orgasm for as long as her body could take. She had to push him away after a while, the pleasure blending into pain, and he reluctantly released her after a last lick that made her body twitch.

She panted and shook with aftershocks, but he just held her close, whispering sweet words in Elvhen that she couldn’t understand, didn’t have the presence of mind to translate. The heavy weight of his arousal lay, hard and hot as ever, against her stomach, but he made no move to use it. That would not do; as well-loved as she felt, she wanted more, wanted all of him.

Once she had sufficiently recovered, she slipped a hand between their bodies and grabbed it gently, surprising a cry out of him. He drew his head back and regarded her with wide eyes. She smiled into his shocked expression and ran her fingers gently over the silken skin. His eyes rolled back in his head, so she kept doing it until he was moaning controllably and a fine shiver ran up and down his spine.

“Ah, vhenan,” he groaned, and pulled out of her hand. “This will all be over far too soon if you continue doing that.”

She leaned up and took his lower lip between her teeth. He followed her when she pulled away, kissing her urgently, chasing her lips. “Then take me,” she whispered against his mouth. She felt him nod, a shaking breath caressing her face. The same urgency that spurred her was evident in his eyes, his pupils consuming the stormy blue of his gaze.

His hand replaced hers, guiding his shaft to her entrance. He hissed in a breath between his teeth as the crown met her heat, then slowly began to slide inside. Her eyes shot wide as the heat of him began to fill her, the sensation more intimate than she could have imagined. A moment later, as the head was pushed past her entrance, the shocking pleasure turned to pain and she gasped and gripped his shoulder tight. When the pain turned to agony as he continued to move, she gasped his name through clenched teeth.

“Solas, it hurts,” she told him, barely able to force the words out. He stopped immediately and his concerned face swam into view.

“Tell me how to help, vhenan,” he said, one hand cupping her face.

“I-I don’t know,” she told him, trying not to try. “Just give me a moment, I think. Don’t move.”

She couldn’t lose this. The pleasure had been so intense, just for a moment, and she needed more even as the pain threatened to make her eyes water embarrassingly. But the pain would recede. Right? _It only hurts because it’s my first time. Right?_

She swallowed the lump in her throat and waited, but the pain didn’t seem to be going anywhere. A moment later, Solas leaned down, careful not to disturb the angle of their joined bodies, and took her mouth, one hand gently kneading her breast. He plucked at her nipple and the resultant pleasure sent a rush of heat and wetness to her core where they mingled and she sighed in relief as the pain finally began to fade. He waited still, kissing her sweetly, kneading her flesh as she flooded him, until she wrapped her legs around his waist and _demanded_ that he move. He chuckled, smiling against her lips, and slid the rest of the way into her body.

There he stopped and released her mouth. Wide-eyed, features slack with shock, he met her gaze. Then he gently caressed her face.

“Perfect,” he whispered, seeming stunned. He withdrew a little from her body, then slid back in. They both moaned at the feeling, heat and friction and blinding pleasure. _Perfect, indeed,_ she thought. It was, her body fitting him like a glove, squeezing him, demanding, and his body’s response sent pleasure flashing across all her nerves. He thrust again, slowly, then again, his pace maddening her. She needed him, needed more, harder, but he moved torturously slowly. When he next withdrew, she thrust up to meet him on the down stroke, making both of them cry out.

“Ar lath ma,” he groaned, his face buried against her neck in the tangle of her hair, and found his rhythm, thrusting into her powerfully, holding her against his chest as she rocked back and forth with him, her nails scraping his sin where she desperately clutched at him. Each thrust caused pleasure to travel up her spine like lightning, shooting from where their bodies joined up to the base of her skull and numbing her thoughts.

As he grew more frenzied, moaning desperately with each thrust, she buried her face between his neck and shoulder, her nails digging into his back, her legs locked around his waist and pulling him as far inside as he could go with each thrust. When his careful control lasted too long for her frantic need, she bit the big tendon in his shoulder and he cried out and finally, finally lost his rhythm. He pounded into her, arrhythmic, moaning, the friction between them burning perfectly and her dripping wetness smoothing the glide. Her nails scraped along his back as she neared her climax again and his fingers clutched her shoulders hard enough to bruise. She tried to hold back, wanting this to last forever.

“Come for me, vhenan,” Solas whispered into her ear, his voice hoarse with effort and need, his warm, damp breath sending shivers through her. “Let me _feel_ it.”

With a harsh cry, she let go of what little control she’d maintained and felt her body spasm within, caressing him, stroking him, milking him, demanding everything from him. Pleasure flooded her nerves, heat like fire across her skin, and her muscled seized up, her legs locking tight and her back arching high as he threw his head back and yelled to the sky with the force of his pleasure, joining her in orgasm and flooding her with even more heat until she thought she might melt around him.

He was still thrusting weakly when consciousness returned to her body. She panted heavily and kissed his face where it rested beside hers. He nuzzled the blade of her ear, then rolled until she was cushioned on his chest, their bodies still entwined. She trembled in his arms, shaken by the intensity of the pleasure they’d found together.

It was unlike anything she’d ever known, the intimacy of being joined, her body around his and him surrounding her. She looked up at his face and was both surprised and not to see that he looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him, a lazy smile on his lips and his eyes half-lidded. And she felt the strength of her love for him bloom in her chest until she almost couldn’t breathe.

“Shh,” he soothed, sounding half asleep already. “Hamin sahlin.” It was good advice. She took a deep, calming breath, nestled more snugly into his hold, and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Hamin sahlin: Rest now  
> Vhenan: Heart  
> Ar lath ma: I love you  
> Ar lasa mala revas: I give to you your freedom
> 
> Okay, I'm just like... These first two chapters read so much better?? I'm so much better as a writer than I was when I originally posted these two chapters almost a year ago. I mean, I still kind of hate them, but I have to call it done at some point!
> 
> Hey, follow my tumblr for unique fics and one-shots! @katalyna-rose  
> I do a lot of stuff there, interact with people as much as I can. Stop on by! Get to know me! Send a prompt my way! Tell me what you think! Obviously I want comments here, like desperately, but you can get to know me a little more intimately on tumblr!


	3. A Well of Sorrow

What felt like only moments later, sunlight speared into Lyna’s eyes. She groaned and shifted, trying to block it out, but when she moved she realized that she was lying on soft grass rather than her silk sheets in her bed at Skyhold. She was also completely naked. She sat up slowly, the events of the previous night flooding back and heating her cheeks.

“On dhea,” Solas said softly, drawing her attention to the present moment. He was at the water’s edge, having apparently washed up while she slept on. She looked at the sky, but the shaft of sunlight that had woken her was one of the first; it was barely dawn, the sky still pink.

Lyna smiled at her lover, a pleasant glow suffusing her body. “On dhea,” she replied. He didn’t meet her eyes, but she didn’t notice through the haze of lingering pleasure. She joined him by the water, delicious soreness spreading through her muscles, particularly her hips. She knelt and splashed waster between her thighs, scrubbing at the sticky mess with her fingers. She’d take a proper bath back at Skyhold, but she needed to be presentable for now. Or at least not covered in the evidence of her night’s activities.

She glanced over at Solas, but he was nearly dressed already and was turning his shirt right side out, revealing the broad, bare expanse of his back.

“Oh!” Lyna cried, and he cast a startled glance in her direction. “I scratched up your back pretty badly,” she said apologetically. He shook his head, seeming vaguely amused.

“Do not be concerned,” he told her quietly. “The marks will heal.” He pulled on his shirt and Lyna repressed her disappointment at having her view interrupted. He stood, then looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time that morning. His expression was grim and she frowned, tilting her head in worried confusion. “It was…” he began hesitantly, then swallowed hard. “Last night was beautiful,” he breathed and she smiled softly.

“Yes,” she agreed. For a moment there was a deep longing in his eyes, a desire that went far beyond the physical, an intensity that almost frightened her. Then his face closed, expression becoming the neutral mask she remembered from when they first met. She hadn’t seen that part of him in a long time and she’d hoped never to see it again except in the presence of particularly annoying nobility.

“I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.” He said it with a finality that staggered her and she swayed on her knees as though he’d struck her.

“Solas…” she said, shocked and hurt, disbelieving. She reached out to him but he stepped away.

“ _Please,_ vhenan,” he implored, though what he was asking for she couldn’t guess. It sounded strangely like a plea for mercy.

“Solas,” she said again, shaking her head, trying to think through the pain stabbing into her heart at his sudden rejection. “Don’t leave me, not now. I love you.” The words slipped out before she could even think to stop them, but he needed to know. She loved him. She thought she’d seen love in his eyes last night, thought she’d felt it in his every kiss and caress. Had she been wrong? She didn’t think so, especially in the face of his quickly crumbling neutrality.

He took an unsteady breath, shaking his head to try to stop her protests. “You have a rare and marvelous spirit,” he told her, his voice breaking slightly. “In another world…”

“Why not this one?” she asked desperately, reaching for him again. But he backed away some more, raising his hands to ward her off as if her touch could break him.

“I _can’t_ ,” he said, and she let her arm drop. His tone approached panic and she couldn’t fathom why. He felt regret for their love making, that much was clear, but she didn’t understand. What had she done wrong?

“Whatever you need, we can find together,” she promised, and she was so certain. She knew him, she loved him, and they were so good together. They made each other stronger, better, gave each other something more to fight for. Whatever it was he sought, they could chase it down together. She reached for him again, but again he stepped away. It didn’t make any sense. All she knew with any clarity was that any effort she made to make him stay was futile.

“We can’t,” he told her, his conviction shattering hers. “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly, and turned away. She watched him leave, despair rising in her throat like bile. She didn’t understand, only knew that he was rejecting her, leaving her, ending everything they had built together, and it was breaking her. He was at the cave entrance when the tears overwhelmed her and she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

 

* * *

 

Lyna yanked the brush through her white blonde hair, wishing she could get Solas out of her head. It had been over three months since she'd seen him during the Exalted Council, five months since she'd last fought at his side, after all. Then she laughed grimly at herself, giving up on her tangles and putting down the brush with more force than was necessary. Her face, bare of Vallaslin, mocked her thoughts nearly as much as her swollen middle did. Not to mention that she was missing half of her left arm. She would never be able to forget him, especially not with such obvious physical evidence of his presence in her life.

She was in love with the Dread Wolf, and he had forsaken her love and her entire world to a promise made over three thousand years ago to people long dead. She sighed, shaking her head, and daubed powder under her eyes to try to hide the dark circles under them. It was a fruitless effort, the pallor of her ivory skin, made paler by her raging hormones, ensured that the contrast between the dark bags under eyes and her pale cheeks was stark and would not be hidden.

There was a knock at the door and she almost wanted to shout at whoever disturbed her to leave her alone.

“Lyna?” It was Hawke. Lyna had come to stay with the Champion and Fenris at their home in Kirkwall a few months ago, once she could no longer disguise the swell of her belly with a little clever tailoring. In the Free Marches, where the Inquisition hadn’t had much presence, she styled her hair differently, or rather didn’t style it at all, and wore the clothes of Ferelden, like many of the refugees who had fled the Blight more than ten years before. No one realized who she was, which was, of course, the whole reason she was there. The people didn’t need to know that their hero, their Herald of Andraste, who healed the sky and defeated a would-be god, was having the Dread Wolf’s child in two months.

Lyna had been planning on staying in the Alienage with those few elves who hadn’t vanished when she announced the Inquisition disbanded. Hawke and Fenris had met her at the docks when her ship arrived and announced that they would not let their friend stay in such a dreary, run down place. It had been an exceedingly generous thing to do and she was grateful to be sleeping in silk sheets rather than scratchy cotton ones that were nibbled by rodents, yet it often left her feeling beholden to her friends.

“Yes?” she answered when Hawke knocked again.

“Your appointment with the healer is in less than twenty minutes,” she reminded her friend. “Are you ready?”

Lyna opened the door to see her concerned friend standing just beyond it. She gave Hawke a small smile, all that she could manage under the circumstances. “I’m ready.” The Champion of Kirkwall returned her smile with a lot more warmth than Lyna had managed to summon. She knew how hard this was for her friend, and she did her best to make it easier.

“Come on, then,” Alie said with a smile and a wave. “Fenris already left to meet Varric and the others. They’ll be sneaking up on the slavers at about the same time we arrive at the clinic.” Lyna chuckled with real amusement.

“I’m surprised you didn’t insist on being there to help thrash them,” she said. “And that Varric is going hunting for slavers! Did he foist his viscount duties onto Bran for the day again?” Alie smiled, her usual sarcasm muted for now.

“Of course Varric took they day off! And this is more important to me than eviscerating slavers,” Lyna was informed.

“Well, aren’t I special?” Hawke laughed, as she was meant to.

“I admit it,” Hawke said with a mocking grin, her usual terrible sense of humor back and strong once more. “Few things are as important as beating up a bunch of child-stealing bastards. And few things are as enjoyable.” Lyna chuckled again.

Alie was careful to lock the door between the cellar and the main house behind them. They traveled through the extensive underground halls, then descended the stairs to the secret entrance to Darktown. That door was also carefully locked, and with a different key.

The clinic had once belonged to Anders, the mage who had begun the mage rebellion in Kirkwall by blowing up the Chantry. More recently, it was operated by a number of healers, most of who had once belonged to the Circle that once stood in the Gallows and now were members of the College of Enchanters. None of them knew that it was one of their patients who had ensured that they retained their freedom.

The healer who had been tending to Lyna and her unborn child since they arrived in Kirkwall, an elven woman named Elarra, saw her patient enter with her friend and smiled, waving them over. She was older, her once-stark beauty softened by age, her dark hair graying at the roots. Kindness twinkled in her eyes.

“There you are, Lyna!” she said, gesturing over to her exam table with a grin. Lyna obediently lay down atop it.

There was little danger in using her real name, as long as she didn’t use her clan name. Clan Lavellan was still settled in Wycome and it was widely known that the Inquisitor had been born to that clan, though few knew the Inquisitor’s given name. She could have gone to her clan, but undoubtedly word would have spread that she was there, and subsequently word would have spread that she was with child. That was not something that she was ready to face, the questions and assumptions that would surround her growing child. So she was in Kirkwall with Hawke instead, though her mother had come to see her twice, under the pretense of visiting Kirkwall on official business with the Viscount. Varric, naturally, had kept the entire thing a secret.

“How have you been feeling?” Elarra asked.

“Aside from some truly awful heartburn, we’ve been fine,” Lyna told her honestly. The healer checked her physically first, measure her pulse and reflexes. She wrapped a knotted cord around her waist to measure the growth, writing everything down in her notebook. Then she placed her hands, glowing with magic, on Lyna’s enormous belly. Eyes closed, breathing deeply, she measured the child with her magic. Lyna waited as patiently as she could, but it was difficult to contain her worry and excitement. Despite all the pain she felt when she thought about the man who had fathered her child, she wanted this. She wanted this piece of what they’d once had, a little baby to call her own, to teach the ways of the People and that the Dread Wolf was nothing to fear, to nurture and protect. She hoped her child would look like him, too. _Will I have a blue-eyed child, or will I see my own violet eyes in my babe’s face? I hope, at least, that dimple in his chin is shared between them._

It took more than ten minutes for Elarra to finish her examination. That was longer than usual, but Lyna kept her concern in check. The child was growing fast now and no doubt that meant it would simply take longer to make sure everything was as it should be. It was no cause for panic.

Finally, the light of Elarra’s magic dimmed and her hands fell away. She sat down wearily and smiled at the concerned mother as she received a draught of lyrium from one of the children who had recently come into their magic and was there to learn. “The child is extraordinarily healthy,” she announced. Lyna grinned with relief, relaxing, and Hawke squeezed her hand. “I can tell you the sex, if you like. You’re far enough along that I can detect it.”

She thought for a moment, wondering if she wanted to draw out the surprise. But she’d never had much patience for surprises. “I’d like to know,” she told the healer, who smiled warmly.

“You’re having a boy,” Elarra announced with soft affection. Lyna’s grin widened.

“A boy,” she repeated reverently, running her hand over her belly. With sudden, undeniable conviction, she said, “I’ll name him for his father.” Hawke gasped in surprise and Elarra looked curious.

“You’ve never mentioned the father,” she said. “I thought that perhaps he had abandoned you when you told him you were to have his child. Now I don’t think that’s the case.”

Lyna looked away. “The truth is far more complicated,” she told Elarra softly. Hawke squeezed her hand again, offering whatever comfort she could give. Lyna sent her a smile and sat up. “Suffice it to say that my little boy is not likely to ever know him, but I still love and respect him very much.”

“I see,” Elarra said, and Lyna thought that perhaps she did. “Well, you’re all set now. I want to see you in a week.”

“So soon?” Hawke asked, startled. Lyna had been seeing her every two weeks.

Elarra gave the pair a patient look. “You’re nearing the end of your pregnancy. If you go into labor early, it could endanger the child. Seeing you weekly until you are ready to give birth gives me a much better chance of detecting problems before they arise and preventing them. Remember, if anything happens, come see me at once. If you feel pain, or the child moves continuously for more than half an hour, or doesn’t move at all for more than half an hour, or anything out of the ordinary, no matter how trivial it may seem, do not hesitate to come to the clinic.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lyna told her, and she and Hawke headed home.

“You’re really going to name him Solas?” Hawke asked once they were back in the main house.

“Yes, I am,” Lyna confirmed, caressing her middle as she sank gratefully into a chair in front of the fireplace.

Alie hummed, seeming uncertain. Finally she sighed and said what was on her mind even though she knew it was probably a bad idea. She usually did. “Honestly, if Fenris had done to me what Solas did to you, I’d want nothing to do with him.”

Lyna laughed, startled. “But he _did_ do to you what Solas did to me!” she told her friend. The other woman opened her mouth to protest and was cut off. “You two developed feelings for each other that culminated in one glorious night together. When the passion faded and reality came flooding back, he left naked in bed for reasons you didn’t fully understand. Then he tried to continue on with business as if nothing had really happened. How is that not the same?”

Alie frowned, considering it. “All right,” she finally conceded. “I see your point. However, if I’d been with child and he had disappeared completely, I would have kept the baby but I would _not_ have named it for him.” Lyna laughed again as Hawke muttered, “And at least Fenris came to his senses.”

“Likely, you would have named your child after your sister or your father,” Lyna said, and Hawke looked startled and pleased, so she must have hit the mark.

Orana hurried up to them as Hawke lit the fire with a gesture. “Would you like anything, mistress?” she asked in that nervous way of hers.

“Some tea would be lovely, Orana. Thank you,” Hawke replied, ever gentle to the former slave who kept her house. The elven girl bowed.

“Anything for you?” she asked Lyna, who smiled at the girl’s generosity and diligence in her role.

“I think some willow tea, if you would. My back is aching horribly,” she said. Orana bowed again and hurried off.

Hawke and Lyna settled in their usual chairs by the now-roaring fire, watching the flames crackle and leap as Lyna ran her hand over her swollen middle, feeling her son follow the movements, chasing his mother’s touch.

“I still don’t understand,” Hawke said once the tea arrived. “Why are you naming him after his father?”

Lyna laughed, though the question made pain lance through her chest. “Solas is many things,” she said. “He hurt me deeply, yes. He left me behind three times, the first time the morning after our son was conceived, the second time right after Corypheus was defeated, and finally again when I tracked him through the Eluvians and disrupted the Qunari plot against Thedas. But he is also wise, and kind, and brave. He loves me, I know he does. He has done so much for me and for the whole world. He’s made mistakes, but who hasn’t? He loves me, I know he does, and that will never fade. But he doesn’t want to hurt me and he thinks I’ll be better off without him.” The explanation left a lot to be desired, but it was the best she could do. Solas had always defied description.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him you were pregnant when you saw him last,” Hawke said after a moment, pursing her lips. Lyna laughed, glad that Hawke had no idea what happened in the Fade.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” she said after she’d sobered. “And if I’d told him about our child and he’d left anyway, that would have hurt more than anything else. So I didn’t bother to hurt us both and still end up in the same place anyway.”

Hawke frowned, lips still pursed in disapproval, mulling over her answer. Then Fenris came in, still wiping his bloody blade on a rag, and she jumped to her feet to greet him with a kiss that he returned fiercely. Orana materialized and relieved him of his sword with his thanks, then informed them that she had run a hot bath upstairs for them. They had a tendency to spend a lot of time alone when they returned from annihilating slavers. Lyna didn’t pretend to understand why that particular form of violence made them so frisky, but she wasn’t one to judge.

Fenris nodded a greeting to his pregnant houseguest, his attention clearly already on the bath and what would happen in it, then after it. Hawke opened her mouth, likely to say she should stay downstairs to play host, but Lyna cut her off before she could.

“Go enjoy, you two. From the looks of things, Fenris needs that bath rather desperately,” she told them, then wrinkled her nose at the blood covering the elven man with sex on his mind. Hawke laughed and gave in, following her new husband upstairs and giggling at whatever he whispered in her ear as he palmed the generous curves of her ass.

Lyna turned her attention back to the fireplace and finished sipping her tea as the relief from pain that willow bark brought spread through her body. She caressed her son where he slept beneath her breast. She couldn’t wait to hold him in her arms and no longer have to deal with this constant heart burn without relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> On dhea: Good morning
> 
> Haha I'm not crying you're crying.
> 
> Yeah okay I'm crying.
> 
> MY TIMELINE IS CANON DIVERGENT, SORRY.


	4. Of Dreams and Childbirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware that I have posted this chapter right on top of the one before it. Make sure you read chapter three first!

Lyna was dreaming, she knew. She was getting much better at controlling her dreams while she slept, but she’d been too tired to bother with trying to stay lucid this time. It was something important that she was dreaming about, wasn’t it? Suddenly she couldn’t remember.

She’d looked up from whatever important thing she’d been dreaming about and seen, far off over a hill, a lone figure. The facsimile of a sun had glanced off of something reflective and drawn her eye. She knew who that figure was, who it always was that watched her from afar while she slept.

They stared at each across a vast distance, much farther than would have been possible in the waking world. Whatever dream she’d been having dissipated the moment she’d seen him, and she didn’t regret the loss; she’d rather dream of him.

Lyna didn’t dream of Solas. Ever. The spirits of the Fade could never imitate him in a way she could tolerate and they’d stopped trying quickly, knowing better than to make the attempt. Even the demons chose other shapes rather than face her wrath at being presented with a false image of her lover. She knew that whenever she spied him watching from far away that it was really him, just as she knew that when she found him other ways it was really him. She knew it in her bones with a conviction that went beyond dreams, beyond the physical or metaphysical; he was her heart, and she was tied to him. What she didn’t know was why he did it. Why was he there, impossibly far away, watching over her as she slept? What drew him to her even though he would never approach?

A spirit approached Lyna from her left, now that she was lucid again. She waved hello with her left hand, the one se only still had in dreams. The spirit was silent for a moment, watching her watch him.

“It hurts you to see him,” it said once it could no longer stand the silence. “So why do you look?”

“Listen harder,” she replied mildly, staring unblinkingly at her love as though he would vanish if she looked away. He likely would. “Tell me what it is you sense from me when I see him.” She felt the spirit’s disapproval.

“Alright.” It was silent for a few moments.

“Red hot, raw pain.” It was a different voice, not the same spirit she’d just been speaking to. “A knife in the chest, tearing at the heart. A fire in the belly, right where my son rests in the waking world. He doesn’t know about his child. Should have told him, should have told him.”

“Hello, Cole,” Lyna greeted him. She was surprised to hear him, but wouldn’t look away from the man she loved to see the spirit.

“You’re missing something,” the first spirit told him. “Light, floating joy. He still cares, he watches because he still cares. He’s making sure I’m safe, making sure I’m still me. Seeing him hurts, but not seeing him hurts more. Wish he would approach, let me see him clearly, maybe talk to him. He won’t without tricks, he never will, but this is still good.”

Lyna smiled. “Yes, Joy. It does hurt to see him, but it’s worth the pain.” She bit her lip, then did the one thing that she knew would send him away, but she had to try anyway. She reached for him, beckoning, taking a step forward. He vanished as if he’d never been, as she’d known he would. But it didn’t matter; she always had to try anyway, and he would be back the next time they slept at the same time.

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment and she had to take care to keep her despair from corrupting her friends as she turned to them. “It’s good to see you, Cole,” she told him, smiling at the spirit who had helped her destroy Corypheus.

“Yes,” he said. “It is good to be seen.” He was silent for a moment, contemplative. “We could tell him,” he finally said.

“Tell him?” she asked, her mind still on the vanished figure rather than her friends.

“Tell him that you carry his child and are set to deliver soon,” Joy said, picking up Cole’s thought eagerly.

“He keeps me away,” Cole said. “He knows I still see you, knows that I would tell you what he’s doing to try to help you both, so he doesn’t let me close enough to hear. But we could ask someone else to tell him.”

“No!” Lyna cried, alarmed by the thought. They both jumped, startled. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “No, thank,” she said again, softer. “He shouldn’t hear it third hand. It would…” She paused, trying to find the right words to explain. “It would be crueler than not telling him at all. And it would still change nothing. This is my way of taking care of him. I know it hurt him to leave me like he did, and I know it would hurt him even more to know that I will raise his child alone.” She turned and looked at the spot where he had stood, but the landscape of the Fade had already changed and the hill he had graced with his presence was gone. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Oh,” Joy said, unusually solemn. Then it started dancing and bouncing, its usual joyful nature taking over. “Then what shall we do today? I know of this wonderful spot nearby. A spirit of wisdom lives there. I don’t like it very much. It likes to poke holes in my joy. But you might like it! I could introduce you.” Lyna smiled at the happy spirit who danced around. Cole was gone again, but that wasn’t unusual.

“Alright, Joy. I’d love to meek your acquaintance.”

 

* * *

 

Lyna came awake with a gasp, a puddle of liquid between her thighs. She’d been mid-conversation with Wisdom, the spirit Joy had introduced to her a few weeks prior. She struggled to sit up and Orana, who had taken to sleeping on a pallet in the room in order to be at hand if Lyna or her son needed anything, was roused by the noise. Lyna had tried to tell the girl that it wasn’t necessary for her to inconvenience herself, but Orana wouldn’t have it. She insisted that she had to make sure any guests were well looked-after, especially one who had yet to be born.

“Oh! Miss! Are you alright?” she asked, leaping to her feet and rushing over.

“The baby is coming,” Lyna gasped, single hand clutching at the frantic movement within. “My water just broke.” Orana gasped and delight and helped the grimacing woman to sit on the edge of the bed.

With Orana’s help, Lyna changed out of the soaked nightgown and into the loose, billowy shift she’d purchased for exactly this occasion. Then she sat, rubbing her hand over her restless child as he prepared to greet the world, while Orana roused Hawke and Fenris.

“Well, you’re right on schedule,” Hawke said as she entered, still tying the knot on her crimson robe.

“Yes, we are,” Lyna replied, grinning.

“Come on, then,” Hawke said, and helped her friend to her feet. She wrapped Lyna’s arm around her shoulder and supported most of the younger woman’s weight. We’d best get you down to the clinic. Orana, would you mind cleaning up the bed, please?”

“Of course, mistress!” the little elven girl said, already stripping the sheets.

“Thank you,” Alie said as they left the room. “Fenris didn’t get back until quite late, so I left him to sleep. He’ll come down to the clinic later. After all, you’re going to be in labor for quite a while yet.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Lyna told her friend. “You don’t need to stay, either. I just need the help getting down there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied incredulously. “I’m staying. You’re going to break my hand as you push this child out of your body and I’m going to listen to every single inventive curse you utter as you struggle with it.”

“But, as you so helpfully pointed out, that won’t happen for hours yet,” Lyna reminded her.

“Sure, your baby won’t start screaming for hours, but you will,” Hawke said with wry humor. Lyna laughed, then gasped breathlessly.

When the pair of them made it down to the clinic, Elarra was roused by an apprentice and they were rushed into a private room in the back of the clinic. In short order, Lyna was settled onto a special platform and Elarra was measuring her progress.

After a few minutes, pain began to build in her lower body and she gasped, clenching her hand into a fist around Alie’s, and thrashed from the agony, instinctually attempting to fight it. Elarra and Alie held her down as she convulsed, but they had trouble with it.

“Maker, she’s strong!” Elarra said once the contraction had faded slightly.

“Well, she’s very good with a bow,” Hawke said with a shrug. “Or she was, before she lost her arm. Now she’s good with a dagger. And piercing insults.” She muttered the last bit under her breath and Lyna wondered if she’d been talking through the pain again.

“It’s only going to get worse and if she thrashes like that it could harm the child,” Elarra said, scowling.

“I’m sorry,” Lyna gasped. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, I know, dear,” the healer said. “But I think I need to send you to sleep for this.”

“As long as it won’t harm my son,” she told the woman, “do whatever you need.”

“Alright, give me a moment.” And she bustled off with two apprentices. Lyna could feel another contraction building by the time she returned. “Here, drink this,” she said, sticking a truly foul-smelling cup under Lyna’s nose. She nearly gagged at the smell, but managed to swallow the small amount of liquid in the bottom. She was unconscious between one blink and the next.

 

* * *

 

Lyna sat up, blinking in surprise, in a meadow that looked vaguely like one of the places her clan had once settled. She sighed, feeling more lucid than she had ever been in dreaming. There was no sudden moment when awareness suddenly came to her or slow dawning of realization. She simply knew it was the Fade.

She rested her hands, both of them, on her flat stomach and sighed. She wondered where her son was when he slept, if unborn children could visit the Fade. She wondered where they were until they were born. Would she find him in the Fade once he was born? Or would he remain in that place she didn’t know about until he was older?

“Oh!” What are you doing back here so early?” Joy asked, its voice deep and rumbling this time as it appeared beside her. It was lying on its stomach, its feet kicking through the air. It plucked a long piece of sweet grass and fiddled with it.

“I’m having a baby,” Lyna told her friend. It gasped and sat up.

“Congratulations!” it cried with glee. Then it frowned. “By why are you here? Isn’t the mother supposed to be awake to push?”

“Yes, normally,” she informed it. “But I was thrashing and fighting the pain with my contractions, so my healer put me to sleep. I’ll likely be here until the baby arrives.”

“Oh.” They were silent for a while, enjoying the sunshine and warm breeze.

“You want to see him, don’t you?” Joy asked suddenly. Lyna slanted a look at her friend. “The father,” it clarified. “You want to see Solas because you’re having his baby right now.” She sighed.

“Yes,” she admitted softly, eyes on her hands. She ran the fingers of her right hand gently over her left arm.

“I probably won’t be able to do it twice, but I could get you close,” Joy offered at last and Lyna looked at it in shock. “It’ll help,” it said by way of explanation. Lyna was nodding before she even made the decision.

Joy moved them through the Fade before Lyna had a chance to second-guess her decision and suddenly she felt herself slip past a barrier that Joy did not follow her through. The consciousness of the dreamer whose mind she had just entered shifted to accommodate her rather than to expel or investigate her, so she knew that Joy had brought her to the right place; when he wasn’t paying attention, Solas would welcome her into his mind still, as he once had whenever she sought him in dreams.

She moved slowly through his dreams, wondering what he was seeing, if he was conscious like her or if he’d allowed himself to get swept up in the current. What she found surprised and excited her; he’d been swept away and was not aware that he was dreaming. Better yet, he was dreaming of his work. She grinned as she reached out and carefully twisted his dream to include her as a natural part of it, as though she belonged with him in his private quarters in whatever hideout he’d found for himself. It was easy enough since she _did_ belong there and his unconscious mind made no effort to resist her alteration; he knew she belonged there, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He was seated at a desk of dark wood, a beautiful window letting in the light of the moons and a mage light hovering at his elbow to allow him to continue working through the night. She prodded his consciousness slightly, blurring the pages until they became the ones that currently sat on his desk. He didn’t notice her alteration, would be less likely to notice her intrusion because of it. He had probably fallen asleep in the middle of work again and it had followed him into the Fade. It wouldn’t be the first time she had come upon him in such a state in dreams. They chased each other through each other’s subconscious in an endlessly reversing cycle of cat and mouse. Or, more accurately, wolf and fox; both were predators who would hunt each other when their territory was intruded upon.

“Making progress?” she asked, coming up behind him and resting her hands on his shoulders. It didn’t feel quite right, the material of his shirt subtly wrong in the Fade, but his muscles were smooth and strong and his skin was warm and supple exactly as it should be. She slipped her hands into his shirt to feel his skin and began kneading his shoulders just because she could. He groaned gratefully and leaned back in his chair to allow her access, one hand reaching up to cover hers gently.

“Very little,” he admitted wearily. She bent and kissed the top of his head.

“It’s late,” she observed, wondering exactly how late it was for him. It had been just before dawn for her, but he could be just about anywhere in the world. He chuckled softly, just a little, and it made her shiver.

“So it is,” he agreed, his face still turned away from her. She didn’t like that, needed to see him, so she curled a finger under his chin and turned his face towards her. Gently, trying to make it as natural as possible but unable to push away the caution that warned her that she would scare him away with her touch, she kissed his brow.

“I think it’s time for a break,” she whispered, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. She felt a strange tug between her thighs and wondered how much time she had, if her son was being born already; time moved differently in the Fade, after all. When she leaned back, his eyes were closed and a soft smile curved his lips. Dark circles ringed his eyes and he seemed to have lost some weight since she last saw him in waking months before, but he was exactly as beautiful as ever. And she still loved him exactly as much as ever, to her own detriment. “Won’t you come to bed with me?” she asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her tone.

He sighed and opened his eyes and she pouted at him when she read the refusal in his gaze. She didn’t have much time and she’d rather spend it in his arms or beneath him, anywhere but this awful stalemate between them. “Vhenan, I have much to do before morning,” he told her. She slid into his lap, desperation making her bold as straddled his legs and kept him from his desk and the work there. He stared at her with raised brows, bemused. “You know this is important, my love.” But his voice was growing low, rougher, as she lowered her hips so that she hovered just above him, her heat radiating to him.

“Of course it’s important,” she murmured, leaning in and staring intently at his hips. “But surely you can take just an hour or two off?”

He chuckled, but the sound was dark, tempting, tempted. “Would such a short amount of time truly satisfy you, vhenan?” he asked her, amused. She pouted at him.

“For now,” she pressed honestly; that was perhaps more time than she even had. She gave him no more time in which to protest, however, and claimed his lips with hers.

He gasped slightly and she did, too, the taste of him exactly as she remembered it and the need building in her threatening to drown her. He tasted of sugar and wine and clean water, and she eagerly plunged her tongue into his mouth. He chuckled again as he allowed her overeager kiss, his hands encircling her waist as hers clutched at his shoulders. She kept herself firmly in his lap as he attempted to gently remove her, refusing to budge.

“Vhenan,” he tried to protest, but she swallowed the sounds. He tried again to speak, to tell her to let him work, but she only kissed him harder. He could have removed her easily, could have picked her up and tossed her from the chair, and they both knew it. It wasn’t a question of strength, as he was the physically stronger; it was a question of will, if his desire to deter her was greater than her desire to stay and kiss him until he lost himself in her. It had always been thus between them, his strength to act against her will to convince him not to. In the end, his only true defense against her had been to leave her vicinity before her will could overcome his once more. She was convinced that was why he kept leaving her; he knew she would win if he didn’t.

She kissed him like she was dying, or he was, like it was their last moment together. She kissed him in all the ways she knew he liked best, her fingers tracing the long points of his ears and her nails scratching lightly at his scalp until he shivered beneath her. She kissed him to remind him of how good he could feel if he let her in.

She wanted him back, wanted him home. She wanted to truly be beside him, for this dream of theirs that she had manipulated to become reality. His will bent to hers in the dream, as she’d known it would if she could only have the opportunity, and he kissed her back just as thoroughly and she knew he missed her too. His hands on her hips stopped attempting to push her away and instead pulled her closer. He pressed her down on his lap until his erection rested between her legs, hard and hot between them. He shuddered as it made contact with the damp heat in her smalls.

She pulled back and broke their kiss as a fine tremor traveled up her spine, a liquid feeling very unlike arousal between her legs; it was almost time. She should tell him. But she rested her forehead against his, pressing lazy kisses against his cheeks as he held her. He was shaking just slightly and she wondered why, if he sensed that something was off about this yet. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he understood, but she didn’t have long anyway.

“Open your heart to me, Solas,” she whispered, ghosting her lips across his. He shivered. “Let me in and I will never abandon you. I could give you so much.”

He froze and she knew. He’d figured her out. She spread her mind through the dream and collected what clues to his location and operations that she could find, coming away mostly with types of foliage to indicate southern Orlais and a few investigative operations that were ongoing. It wasn’t much, but she’d send it to Leliana when she had the chance. He would expel her from his mind soon, or she would wake to greet their son; there wasn’t much time left.

“You cannot be here,” he murmured, his hands tightening almost painfully on her waist. “How…?” His fingers became claws as he realized. “This is the Fade.”

She smiled sadly, affectionately, not betraying the pain of his grip. “It is a rare day when you are the one who has to figure that out rather than me.”

His expression of surprise became a grimace of pain as he clutched her ever tighter. “Is it you?” he whispered desperately, voice suddenly gone hoarse. “Lyna, is this you? Or merely and illusion? A spirit?”

“Oh, Solas,” she breathed against his lips, melting into his arms. “You know it is me. You would have figured out where you were much faster otherwise. You let me in when I found you. I know you wouldn’t do that for an unfamiliar spirit.”

“But why?”

She sighed heavily. “You know why, vhenan,” she told him softly. “Let me back into your heart, Solas. Come home to me.” His pained expression became agonized as he forced his fingers to release her. He seemed to age ten years for every inch of distance he forced himself to put between them.

“I cannot,” he said, sounding as though he were sentencing himself to death with those words. “I cannot bring you into this. It is not…” He stopped and drew a deep, shaking breath. “I cannot,” he said again. “Besides, you have disappeared from Skyhold. No one knows where you have gone.” He began to push at her consciousness, to remove her from his mind as she fought to stay. She smiled wryly; their son would wake her before he could.

“Those who need to know do,” she said. “You know that. How many places could I have truly gone? You could find me if you wished.” He looked chagrinned and she couldn’t help but laugh, but the end of it turned breathless from the sudden emptiness in her gut where her son had been for nine months. He was born. She would wake any moment. “I know you too well, Solas. I know you know where I am.”

His hands cupped her cheeks gently, as though she were as fragile as glass. “Vhenan,” he began, his tone agonized, but she cut him off. She had to; she was out of time and she needed to tell him about their child.

“Solas, var lath vir suledin. You must know that I have-“ The dream shattered around her to the sound of an infant’s screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, the first really big divergence between the new and old versions!
> 
> Yes, I absolutely just used Open Your Heart, originally written as a prompt fill on tumblr, in this fic. In fact, I had fully intended to do so upon writing it! It's one of the concepts that I felt needed to be changed from the original version. Since Solas watches Lyna and Lyna taught herself to be a Dreamer (more on that later), she would absolutely seek him out, too.
> 
> I have a theory that even Solas can get swept up in the current of natural dreams rather than always manipulating them to explore, that it takes a measure of focus and determination to actively control dreams. Uthenera is a state in which controlling one's dreams is a given, but now that he's awake it isn't quite so simple.
> 
> So I still took a cop-out on childbirth, but at least this time it wasn't so half-assed! I hope it worked, anyway...


	5. Words Won't Wait

Lyna stirred, trying to wake from her dreams, but it was difficult even with the screaming and wailing all around her.

“Lyna!” It was Hawke’s voice, and she was excited. “Lyna, come on! Wake up! Your son is ready to greet you!”

 _My son?_ Oh! She remembered in a rush, being unconscious through the birth. She’d given birth! That thought allowed her to push away the haze of dreams, even dreams of Solas.

“My son! Let me see him!” Lyna cried. She reached out with both arms, forgetting for a moment that she could hold him with only one.

Elarra held the squirming bundle, which she passed to the new mother, settling it firmly in her one good arm. “Here he is. A strong little thing, this one. And he knows who his mother is. He was reaching for you for the whole time I was cleaning him off,” she said, grinning.

Lyna looked into her son’s face. Bright violet eyes stared just beyond her, too new yet to focus. With the stump of her left arm, she settled the blankets further back from his face. He calmed as she held him, stopped screaming.

“He’s beautiful,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears.

“He is,” Hawke agreed through her own watery smile.

Fenris, arms wrapped around his wife’s waist, said, “He’s very small, isn’t he?”

“A bit smaller than is average, yes,” Elarra said as she bustled about, cleaning up. “But he’s healthy. Lungs working just fine, everything properly developed. He’s just small, that’s all.”

“He’s perfect,” Lyna told them, never looking away from her son’s tiny and beautiful face.

“Of course he is,” Fenris conceded, a smile in his voice.

Suddenly, Lyna’s tears of joy became tears of sorrow. “I wish his father were here,” she whispered. Just then her son, her little Solas, reached out and placed his hand on the stump of her arm. A sob escaped her lips. “I should have told him, Hawke. You were right. I should have told him, even if it wouldn’t have changed anything. He still should have known.”

Hawke sat beside her friend and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. With her other hand she smoothed the little boy’s dark brown hair. Lyna hadn’t known what color Solas’s hair would have been, but she supposed she did now.

“You did what you thought was right at the time,” she said softly. “Regrets now don’t change what is.”

Lyna took a deep breath. “I know that. But I wish I could find some way to tell him.” She looked up at her friend. “I see him nearly every night. I speak to him sometimes. But I can never find the words to say it, even when I try.”

“Maybe you will,” Hawke said brightly. “If life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is impossible.”

“I suppose,” she said, doubtful. Solas started mewling and reached up and out with his tiny little arms. When one met her breast, he fell silent and kneaded the flesh a little. She chuckled. “Hungry already, little one?” she asked him. Somehow, she managed to maneuver her dress until one breast was bared. Solas immediately latched on to begin his meal. His mother sighed. “At least my son is healthy. As long as that is true, I can handle anything.”

“Exactly,” Hawke said.

 

* * *

 

“A boy. Bright. Healthy. Little. So little. But strong. A tug on the silk to pull it out. Hurts, but it’s good. He’s good,” Cole said in that peculiar way of his.

“Yes,” Lyna told him with a smile. “A healthy little boy. I named him for his father.”

“I’m glad he’s healthy,” Cole told her with his own small smile.

“So am I. How are you?”

“She finds me and I falter, wanting, waiting, wishing. She’ll find me again, want it, need it, have to keep her away.” His eyes grew glazed, his gaze far away, and Lyna knew whose thoughts he was speaking. “She tries to speak, mouth opens then closes, words that won’t pass her throat. What is it? Want to hear, afraid to hear, know it could change everything but not what it is. Each time she finds me it is harder to push her away. Want her to stay. So strong, she’s so strong to even find me. Why does she let me retreat?”

“I have no choice but to let him go, Cole,” Lyna said seriously, wrapping her arms around herself in some vain attempt at comfort.

“That’s not true!” Joy interjected, appearing suddenly and twirling around. For now, Joy appeared as a young girl in a flowery dress. It had been spending a lot of time with Lyna since she’d given birth almost two weeks ago, despite the sorrow that dulled her joy.

“What do you mean?” Lyna asked the slightly more straight-forward spirit.

It continued twirling with a grin. “In the Fade, there is always choice,” it told her, and she retracted her former observation of its straight-forward nature.

“What do you mean?” she asked again. “He always pushes me away.”

“But you let him!” it declared, still twirling, faster and faster until it made Lyna dizzy.

“He’ll push me out on his own if I don’t leave,” she reminded her friend. “So why not steal the last word from him as I do?”

It stopped spinning suddenly, enough so that any mortal would have toppled over. It sighed at her, seeming disappointed. “You have always thought of this battle between the two of you as a battle of wills,” it told her, finally giving a straight answer. “In the Fade, that concept is a literal one! If your will surpasses his, he cannot push you out.”

“He…” she began, then stopped and swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t be able to eject me from his dreams if I didn’t let him?”

“I didn’t say that,” Joy was quick to correct. “If his will to push you out is greater than your will to stay, he can still make you go. It’s simply a more literal interpretation of your ongoing battle of wills.”

“If I were strong enough, I could make him stay until I can finally force the words out of my throat to tell him he has a son?” Lyna asked urgently, clutching her friends’ arms.

“Well, it’s possible,” Joy said with a shrug. “But I doubt you’d be able to hold him for very long. Or anyone, really. It takes a lot of concentration, and if you’re distracted by what you need to say then it’ll make it easier for him to ignore your command. But theoretically, yes.”

“But if I tried, I could…” She had to know.

“This is the _Fade_ , Lyna!” Joy cried. “Everything here exists because someone willed it so!”

“You could will him to stay,” Cole added. “He wants to, but he can’t.”

“Then I’ll need to practice,” she told them with a smile. Joy nodded happily, easily.

“I will help,” Cole said. He always understood.

 

* * *

 

“Hush now, little one! What’s all this?” Lyna cooed to her son. He was wailing again, as he tended to prefer doing the moment she laid down to rest. Carefully, she lowered the side of his crib so she could bend over and scoop him into her arm. He calmed a little for a moment, then continued howling. She checked his diaper then sighed.

“No tears and no mess today. Just practicing, then?” she asked her son. He didn’t answer, just kept up the noise. She sighed again and sat in her rocking chair with him. They rocked slowly while he exercised his lungs.

“At this rate,” she told him after a few minutes, “you’re going to be an incredible singer one day.” He wrapped a strand of her platinum blonde hair around his little fist and tugged. She winced, then did her best to untangle her hair from him. “I’m beginning to regret growing my hair out,” she admitted to him wryly. He burped in response, then continued wailing. When he tugged her hair again, she sighed. “Some things are easier with two hands,” she said to no one, the most ridiculous understatement she’d ever made. “Keeping a one-month-old out of trouble is certainly one of them.”

Lyna watched as dawn’s first light colored Kirkwall pale pink, holding her screaming child close. “Why can I never find the words or the strength to tell him about you?” she asked the horizon. “I see him almost every night, even talk to him fairly often when we can trick each other for a moment, but I can never get the words out. Why? What is it that I’m so afraid of? That he’ll reject me? He already did that. Three times, no less!” Solas finally quieted and nestled into the crook of his mother’s arm, yawning and stretching his little arms. She smiled down at him sadly. “I suppose I’m afraid that he’ll reject you, da’mi,” she whispered to her son. “My little Solas, you are named for him and born of his seed, but that does not make him a father. Would he even want you, if he knew? That must be what I’m afraid of, then. That he would leave altogether, even in dreams, to avoid a responsibility to you.”

He yawned again, tiny fists pressed against his cheeks, and it was so adorable she couldn’t help but grin at him. “What would you say to your father, I wonder? Would you be hurt that he isn’t here with you? Or would you be satisfied that I’m here, that I love you with my whole being?” She sighed heavily and kissed his forehead. “Someday, I’ll have an answer to that question, I think. When you’re old enough, I know you’ll ask me about him. And I will tell you, of course. I would never lie to you, da’mi. I know the damage that lies can do.”

He made a little noise then, demanding and insistent, and reached up to her with one small hand. She smiled again. “A story, then? Very well. Let’s see…” She thought for a moment. “How about I tell you the story of how my parents met? My father was born in an Alienage, you know. And one cold, snowy winter near Ostwick…”

 

* * *

 

“He is well,” Wisdom told Lyna before she could even ask. She smiled ruefully.

“Am I that predictable?” she asked. The spirit smiled.

“You ask me the same question each time we meet,” it reminded her.

“Is he well, though? Truly?” she asked, concerned. “The last time I saw him he seemed… thin. Malnourished. Like perhaps he isn’t sleeping enough.”

“Health and wellness are all relative,” Wisdom told her with sadness in her gaze. Lyna wondered for a moment why both spirits of Wisdom she had met preferred to appear female and were also friends with Solas, then shook it off as a question for another time. “What is healthy for you is not healthy for you son.”

“Is he taking care of himself?” Lyna asked insistently. “Is he well for _him?_ I don’t care about his health relative to anyone but himself!”

Wisdom sighed. “I know, but I thought that perhaps you would be better off believing he is well.”

“How _wise_ would that be?” Lyna asked the spirit with angry sarcasm.

“It could, perhaps, allow you to focus on your own health and that of your son,” Wisdom said patiently. Lyna clenched her jaw and said nothing more; perhaps the spirit was right and she should try to worry about him less. Yet then Wisdom grinned, a rare thing for her. “If you could simply cease worry for your love, a lot of problems might be solved. But it would also prove that you do not, in fact, love him. Love is boundless when true, and cares not for distance or anger. Yet love is not blind; it sees the imperfections of a person and it embraces them. He is rash and impulsive beyond what others see and you know this, yet you embrace these flaws in him.”

“They aren’t always to his detriment,” she reminded her newest friend. “That same impulsivity that has caused him to make so many mistakes also allowed him to fall in love with me. Maybe it could make him let me back in if I could just…”

“Just what?” the spirit asked eagerly, as though Lyna were on the verge of something profound.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want him to come back out of nothing more than a false sense of obligation to his son.”

Wisdom tilted her head. “What makes it a false sense?” she asked curiously. “If the child is his, born of his loins, as we both know it to be, then is the obligation not upon him to care for the child?”

“It isn’t that simple,” she told the spirit, shaking her head. “Perhaps some people see it that way, but I don’t. I wanted my child, my son. I want him because I love him and what he represents. I love the potential he carries and that I will be there to nurture it. But simply creating a child does not make one a parent. It is an active choice, and not one that he has made.”

“Because he does not know,” Wisdom reminded her. “He cannot make a choice if he does not have the information.” Lyna sighed heavily.

“I know that,” she said wearily. “But every time I try to tell him, I freeze up. I can’t force the words out of my throat.”

“You are afraid,” it observed. Lyna snorted.

“I _know_ that,” she told it. “I simply don’t know how to work past it to tell him.”

They were silent for a few long minutes as Lyna played with the landscape around them, shaping a waterfall to create music. Wisdom tilted her head and nudged a rock so the note rang true, and they sighed together, pleased with the results.

“Keep trying,” Wisdom said at last, then vanished. Lyna rolled her eyes.

 

* * *

 

She found him again in a memory he visited far too often. Ordinarily, she’d leave him to it, let him be with this one and not interfere. But she found that she couldn’t simply leave this time. It was probably the hormones still coursing through her, but she didn’t want him to keep doing this.

He moved through the memory with ease, viewing it from a hundred different angles, ducking waving limbs when necessary. His face was drawn and closed, expression fierce; he was using this memory to torture himself. And he looked even less healthy than the last time she’d found him in his own dreams. The dark circles under his eyes were darker, bags that dragged down his face. He seemed to have lost more weight. She wondered if he was really that unhealthy in waking or if it was a representation in the Fade, like most things. She hoped he was taking better care of himself than he seemed to be.

Surely he deserved it, she told herself again. In the memory, Lyna screamed in pain and clutched her left wrist as though that could stem the tide of agony. Solas allowed each tiny noise of distress to spear his heart, keeping his eyes on her no matter who else was speaking. They were all speaking, arguing about the Exalted Council and how best to mitigate the fallout from his own actions. And Lyna was terrified, though she could never show it to them.

“All the rifts I closed, all the demons I faced,” she mourned when the pain could no longer be hidden. When she broke. “I don’t want to die!” Solas clenched his fists, shoulders bowing under the weight of the desperation in her voice. He bowed his head when she continued, amending her statement. “Not… knowing that the world still needed me.” She didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t allow herself to be selfish. And it was his fault.

As she collected herself, polite mask back in place, he froze the memory around him. With one finger, he touched Lyna’s cheek. It was soft and altogether too real. Even in memory, he shuddered at the sensation. He began the scene again, from the beginning.

And she couldn’t watch, couldn’t let him continue. “Why do you torture yourself with the past?” she asked him. He spun around, searching for her, but she knew he would find her only if she let him and continued to float just outside of his perception, a familiar dance. He had taught her this trick, though he hadn’t meant to. He had taught her to float through the Fade as consciousness without form.

“How did you get here?” he asked, sounding oddly desperate.

“You let me in,” she told him. His expression became strained, and she laughed lightly. “In moments like this, you all but drag me here,” she admitted, knowing that he would ward against her even more strongly than ever when he wished to be alone. But she couldn’t let him continue like this and she would find a way past his warding eventually. Or he would simply let her in again. “Why do you do this to yourself?” She felt him probing, moving closer. She moved away.

“It is no less than I deserve,” he admitted softly, his eyes darting around as though his sight could find her. He should know better.

“Perhaps, but it is over,” she reminded him. “It is done. I do not hold it against you.”

“How can you not?” he whispered brokenly, his search for her momentarily abandoned. “I nearly destroyed you. I did destroy the Inquisition.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “I received the Anchor by _my_ will, not yours. And you saved my life, saved me when it would have destroyed me. And _I_ disbanded the Inquisition. It was simply time, our work completed. The reason for its existence was over, so I sent them all home.”

He laughed without humor. “You cannot lie to me, vhenan,” he reminded her softly. “Not here.”

“Perhaps not,” she allowed, a smile in her voice. His search for her resumed. “But you have still not answered my question. Why are you here?”

He hesitated. “I told you when last we met in waking that I am not a monster, but I have never been certain if I believe those words.” In her shock, she almost let him catch her before moving away.

“No love of mine could ever be a monster,” she told him with certainty. He bowed his head.

“You simply do not know me,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that!” she snapped. He jerked, surprised to hear her lose her temper; it happened so rarely, yet she couldn’t help it. How could he question all that she knew and loved like that? It was an insult that she would not tolerate. “I know all I need to know to love you! I know that you are kind, that you would help refugees rather than pursue your own purposes. I have seen you do it. I know that you are knowledgeable and willing to share. How many nights did we talk through in the rotunda until dawn while I studied your latest mural? I know that you are creative, in both art and studies. You always found the most interesting ways to look at things, and I will always treasure the murals and sketches and paintings you left behind. A person’s past does not define who they are. I did not need to know that you were once Fen’Harel to know that you are _Solas_ and _I love you_.”

He took a deep, shaking breath, abandoning his quest for her, allowing her to remain with him. She did not take the bait. “You love a shadow, the remnants of a man who ceased to exist long ago,” he insisted.

“No,” she said gently, her fury fading as swiftly as it had taken her. “You were Solas first, and you will remain Solas long after Fen’Harel is laid to rest. My people forgot the truth, but _I_ will never forget. I will _never_ forget you.” He jerked as she repeated his last words to her back to him.

Knowing what would happen yet acting anyway, she coalesced her consciousness into form just before him and took his face in her hands. She pressed her lips against his gently and for a moment he remained hard and unyielding. Until, all at once, he broke and wrapped her in his arms, crushing her lips with his. He leaned her back, making her cling to him, and kissed her until she was breathless.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he murmured against her mouth as they breathed as one.

“I know, Solas,” she whispered, caressing his face. She felt him pushing her consciousness away, out of his dream, out of the Fade altogether. “Ar lath ma. Var lath vir suledin. But I will not go quietly tonight,” she vowed, holding her ground, fighting his will. His eyes widened, something between fear and delight in his gaze, and she shivered in his arms under the weight of that look. “There is something…” she began, trying again, but he was still pushing, they were still fighting, and she was so afraid. She wavered for a moment, he almost won, before she dug her nails into his shoulders and he winced with pain and it allowed her to keep herself in place. “I need to tell…” Her breaths came short and quick, panic speeding her pulse. He frowned, their mental grappling slowing just a little in his confusion.

“Vhenan,” he murmured, just barely giving voice to the word, and she tore herself from his grasp. She couldn’t touch him and still find the strength to say it. He had to know so that he could choose, so that he could _know,_ yet she was so afraid of the result that she couldn’t even look at him. She wrapped her arms around herself, breathing so hard that she was about to hyperventilate and wondering if that translated into the waking world, if that was why everything was becoming blurry.

She tried to rush it, to force the words out all at once. “Solas, we have-“ The dream shattered on an infant’s scream.

Lyna sat up in bed and tried to wipe some of the tears from her face. She was fairly certain that she’d hadn’t been crying in the dream, but her pillow was soaked. She’d also discovered that she had, in fact, been breathing just as hard in waking as in dreaming. She tried to slow her heart as she left the bed and went over to her son. His cries lessened as his mother appeared in his field of vision, then stopped entirely when she scooped him up, her mental state having no effect on the demands of his little tummy. She sighed as she sat in her rocking chair with him and he began his meal.

“I suppose this must mean you don’t want your father to know,” she told the suckling infant at her breast. “Maybe it’s for the best, but I can’t just leave it like this. What he does with the information is up to him, but he deserves to have it.” She kissed her son’s forehead, then wiped her face on her shoulder. “I would be no better than him at his worst if I kept knowledge of you from him on purpose. I need to tell him if only to soothe my conscience. If he vanishes entirely, that’s his own choice.” She stared off into the darkness of Kirkwall’s landscape. “That’s his own choice,” she repeated, trying to tell herself that she would be okay with it and failing.

 

* * *

 

She dreamed of her father. She was small and his strong arms were still there to scoop her up and swing her around. His strong and calloused hands were still there to guide hers on the tiny bow he’d made for her, small enough for her little arms to wield. His voice was deep and low in her ear as he whispered to her about the wind’s direction and course, how to correct her aim. They made no other sound so that they wouldn’t scare away the deer they hunted.

They were close to it, so close that if the wind shifted even a little it would scent them and run. But they had to be so close because the range on the tiny bow was so much less than that of the one strapped to her father’s back. But he wanted her to make the kill, if she could.

His hands left her, allowing her to hold the bow and arrow with her own strength. He said no more, allowed her to judge the proper moment. She could feel how tense he was, holding his breath in anticipation. She let the arrow fly.

It struck true! The deer was dead before he hit the ground, painlessly slipping away into the Beyond. Lyna screamed with glee as her father tilted his head back and laughed, deep and long, and swung her up into his arms.

“Oh, well done, da’assan!” he cried, tossing her up to catch her and hold her close. He peppered her face with kisses. “Look at you! A master archer already and only nine years old! One day, my little arrow, you will rule the world if you wish!”

“But Bae, I don’t want to rule the world!” she told him with a grin, her arms around his neck. He brushed a rebellious white blonde curl off her face.

“No?” he asked, tilting his head. Her own dark violet eyes stared at her from his face, though sandy blond hair framed the wide cheekbones. “But think of all the wonderful changes you could enact, ma lath!” She shook her head.

“I just want to help Mamae and the Keeper,” she said with a child’s determination. “I want to keep the clan safe. Everyone I love is here. Everything I want is here. Why would I want the world when I have you?”

And for a moment her father looked as though he might cry, tears gathering in his eyes. Then his grin split his cheeks and he covered her in kisses until she was squealing with laughter. Finally, he let her slide to the ground.

“Come on, then!” he cried, waving her toward the deer carcass. “We must thank this graceful beast for the gift of its body that will nourish the clan. And then we must take out the intestines and put them in this bag and drain the blood before we haul it back to camp.”

“But why, Babae? Can’t we just take it home now?” she asked, trotting to keep up with her father’s long legs.

“This is a great beast, da’len,” he reminded her, gesturing to the size of the buck. “It would be too heavy for us. We keep the entrails because they are put to use, but we take them out because they are heavy. The blood is simply weight we don’t need to carry. Once this task is completed, we will tie up the carcass and drag it home and it will be a much simpler task to get it there and a much simpler task to break it down once we do. You understand?”

Lyna nodded eagerly, curls bouncing around her face. “Yes, Babae,” she said. She knelt by the deer’s head, the first creature bigger than a nug that she had ever killed. She blinked back a few tears to see the glaze in its eyes, the lack of life where life should be. Her father noticed.

“It is good to mourn the dead, da’len,” he told her softly, a hand coming to rest on the top of her head. “It is especially good to mourn when it was your deed or order that caused the death. It will help you keep perspective. Never be greedy with death, my little arrow, or it will consume you in the worst ways.” His eyes clouded then with some memory that Lyna had not known to ask about as a child. “That is why we must thank this beast for the bounty of his body. That is why we must never hunt females in the breeding season and why we must never hunt the younglings. You understand, da’assan?”

“Yes, Babae,” she said again, and rested her hand on the deer’s head. “Thank you, kind one. We will do our best to honor you,” she whispered to it, then took the knife that her father handed her to begin the task of carving.

She stopped, sniffing the wind, sensing a predator on the horizon. The image of her father wavered as she shifted beyond the boundaries of the memory. She lifted her head and turned to look and saw the wolf, as tall as the buck that lay dead before her and black as pitch, six ruby eyes trained on her. And she was unafraid. She knew him, even in the body of her nine-year-old self.

“Solas,” she said, reaching out, and her child’s voice sounded strange shaping the name. He lifted a paw, made to move toward her, then hesitated. “Solas, come speak to me,” she tried again. “There’s something I have to-“ He shuddered hard, then turned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Mamae: Mother  
> Babae: Father  
> Bae: Daddy  
> Da'assan: little arrow  
> Ma lath: my love
> 
> Yeah, I'm using adapted drabbles in my chapters. I'm doing it on purpose! Shush.
> 
> I... have very little knowledge of hunting... :D
> 
> So basically this whole chapter is different from the original. Very little remains the same because I am altering one of the key elements in this part of the story. It won't have a very far-reaching effect, but I changed my mind about my feelings on a certain direction that I took this before I'd even finished the story. I just never got around to fixing it! Until now.


	6. Of Letters and Visits

_Moonlight,_

_Cullen is asking about you again. He says you never respond to his letters. Leliana still gets reports from you when you have anything to send, but Cullen and Josephine are feeling left out. I get that motherhood is exhausting and chasing down the father of your child is taxing in a lot of ways, but you’re neglecting your friends. When was the last time you left Hawke estate and went further than market? I know you’re laying low and all, but this isn’t healthy._

_Look, I get why you refused that property and title I promised you at the Exalted Council, but you could at least accept some invitations to socialize? You must be shriveling up from lack of interaction with actual people. I know you, Moonlight, and you need people. I know you want to stay hidden and all, but couldn’t you at least write to your friends? We’re worried._

_VT_

 

* * *

 

_Varric,_

_You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that between figuring out how to be a mother with only one arm and the general depression about Solas's absence from his son's life it’s been a little difficult to find the time and motivation for much else. My son is my only joy right now, and I know that’s not healthy._

_I don’t think I’m comfortable just yet navigating Kirkwall’s upper class and I’m definitely not willing to visit the Viscount’s palace, but why don’t you drop by sometime? You know Hawke and Fenris are always happy to have you._

_I’ll write to Cullen and Josie. You’re right, I’m not being fair to them._

_Moonlight_

 

* * *

 

_Lyna,_

_Maker’s breath, it’s been ages since I heard from you! If not for the reports Leliana gets I would start to get worried!_

_Where are you getting your information, anyway? Leliana tells me that your last report was startlingly detailed and my men found exactly what was predicted. How did you even know there were ruins under the river in Emprise du Lion, let alone that there would be agents there?_

_I’m glad to hear that your son is well. I hope this means that you’ll come back soon and work with us again. Without your presence, everyone feels a little slower, stilted. The entire cause feels a little possible. I understand why you left, but I’m sure that the people of Thedas could forgive you for having a child out of wedlock. It happens, after all, right?_

_Or are you worried that they won’t accept who fathered the boy? I admit, to anyone who hadn’t seen the two of you together it might seem dangerous, but does anyone really have to know? It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened._

_I don’t mean to press. I would simply feel much better knowing you were somewhere I could keep you safe. But it’s good to know that you and your son are well._

_Cullen Stanton Rutherford_

 

* * *

 

_Lyna,_

_It is so good to hear from you! Leliana keeps me apprised, of course, but you say so little about yourself in your reports to her. They are wonderful reports, to be sure, but they leave us all a little worried about your health._

_Are you eating enough? Are you taking care of yourself? Is your son well? What does he look like? What is his favorite toy? I wish I could meet him!_

_I’m certain that Cullen has asked you to come back, and as much as we would all love to have you, I really do not believe that Thedas could handle knowing that you’ve had a child with a man who is almost our enemy. There are many who do not understand the distinction between enemy and misguided rival and would view both you and your son with suspicion and even hostility. I am sorry if this causes you distress, but you asked me to always be honest with you about such things._

_Unfortunately, enough people know about your past relationship with our favorite apostate that it would not be feasible to hide the boy’s parentage for long. And, unfortunately, to attempt such a thing would be seen as the greatest insult by many. I am sorry, my friend, but I think that, for now, it is better that you remain hidden. Leliana and I will keep Cullen in check, never fear! Though she is very busy with her duties as Divine, she always finds time to step in whenever he might do something rash, and her spies are as active as ever. Sometimes I wonder if she ever sleeps or if she hasn’t so much as napped in the past year, but she always claims to be taking care of her health. It wouldn’t do for us to lose the Divine again so quickly! And she is a dear friend._

_Take care of yourself, my friend. I hope you still drink jasmine tea every night like you used to. I try to stick with the routine as it gives me a measure of comfort, but I sometimes forget. But I think that the smell of jasmine will forever make me think of cold nights in your room at Skyhold and endless gossip! As odd as it sounds, what with all the dangers and horrors and demons and politicking, I miss those days. I suppose in truth, I simply miss your company. You have always been the best friend I could have hoped for, with the exception of Leliana, perhaps!_

_I miss you. Please write to me often!_

_Josephine Montilyet_

 

* * *

 

_My friend,_

_It has been ages since ~~your~~ we last shared ~~report~~ rapport! I do so miss ~~lead~~ having you here. We used to ~~discover~~ find such interesting things around ~~the lion~~ that statue! Remember when ~~we~~ I found bought ~~six~~ seven of those ~~magical~~ rings by the fountain? And that shop with the ~~talisman~~ necklaces? So pretty! But our r ~~ival~~ friend never wanted to come! I kept asking why, but he would never ~~reveal~~ say! And then he ~~vanished~~ moved away in the spring! I miss him. Don’t you?_

_Oh, please visit soon! It’s so boring without you here._

_L_

 

Lyna rolled her eyes and got to work on the decoding of Leliana’s letter until it read as it should.

 

_My friend,_

_Your last report led to a discovery in Emprise du Lion. We found six magical talismans that Solas was after under the waterfall. An agent was captured, revealed nothing, and vanished by dawn. Unable to track him down again._

_Send more information when you gather it._

_Leliana_

 

* * *

 

Lyna danced slowly around her room in Hawke’s estate, the nine-week-old boy in her arms calming slowly as she rocked him.

“You’re so much like your father,” she told him with a smile. “You’ve stolen my heart exactly as fast.” She kissed his wispy dark curls. “Never forget that you are born of love, no matter what losses result,” she whispered against his silken skin. “My little love child, your fate is yours alone.”

He reached up and patted her face, then made a demanding little noise. She grinned at him. “A story? Again? I’ve already told you one tonight,” she reminded him. He made that little mewling noise again. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you another story,” she capitulated. She hummed, thinking. “Ah! How about I tell you about how I met your father?” he nestled into her chest and wrapped her hair around his little fist.

“I’m glad you agree,” she told him conversationally as she continued to slowly dance around with him. “Well, let’s see…

“We met after the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded when Corypheus unlocked the Orb of Fen’Harel. I’d been caught in the explosion and received the Anchor on accident while trying to save the Divine. He’d stopped it from consuming me and made sure I would live, at least for a while. Cassandra, a Seeker and Right Hand of the Divine, wanted to see if it could be used to close the Breach that threatened to destroy the world. She took me to a rift near Haven, where some soldiers and volunteers were battling the endless stream of demons pouring out of the Fade. We helped them defeat those who had already come through, then I felt my hand grabbed.

“’Quickly, before more come through!’ he cried, and thrust my hand at the rift. And it closed, like magic. Which it was, naturally. I could hardly believe it, even though I’d felt the power coursing between the mark on my hand and the tear in the Veil.

“’What did you do?’ I asked him. And then I looked. I think I loved him right then, with my first glimpse. He was regal, tall for an elf, completely bald, with intense blue eyes and sharp features. And he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought.

“He smiled at me and my breath caught. _‘I_ did nothing,” he told me. ‘The credit is yours.’

“Of course, it really wasn’t. Not then, at least. I had no idea what I was doing.” Solas burped and snuggled deeper into her embrace. She smiled at him as he slid slowly toward sleep.

“He is remarkable, is your father,” she told him softly. “Brilliant and wise and kind and compassionate. I talked to him for hours, never tiring of his beautiful voice or the way he viewed the world. We would read together, each researching different subjects, or taking turns reading the same book, trading passages aloud. He sat on a couch in the rotunda at Skyhold and I laid my head in his lap. I fell asleep like that more than once, and woke to find that he had carefully extracted my book from my hands and marked my page for me. He never complained about it, either; he just seemed to enjoy my presence. He painted frescoes on the walls of the rotunda and they were the most beautiful art I have ever seen. Each of them depicted the things I had done to try to save the world from Corypheus. They were amazing, with a wonderful eye to color and texture. I miss that tower, though not as much as I miss the man who spent so much time there.” She sighed and smiled sadly at her son.

“I need to find some way to tell him about you, da’mi,” she told him gently. “He should know, even if he never meets you.” Solas started snoring gently, so she laid him carefully in his crib and tucked his blankets around him. “Even though he might leave or it might change nothing at all, he deserves to know about his son…” She kissed his forehead and stood.

“That is not true,” whispered a soft voice from a shadowed corner of the room.

Lyna leapt into a defensive position, a dagger in her hand, her son protected behind her, a snarl on her face. But when she saw who stepped out of the shadows, arms out beside him, unarmed though never unprotected, her dagger fell from limp fingers and her snarl turned to open-mouthed shock.

“Solas…” She breathed his name, terrified that she was dreaming again or hallucinating or that if she spoke this spell would be broken and she’d be alone with her sorrows once more.

He shuddered at the sound of his name and stepped forward. He retrieved the dagger she’d dropped and slipped it into the little sheath strapped to her ruined arm without touching her. And then they simply stood there, staring at each other in breathless shock, until the silence became unbearable.

“What isn’t true?” she whispered, desperate to hear him speak, to know why he’d come, to see him look at his son for the first time. One corner of his mouth turned up just a little.

“This changes _everything,”_ he breathed, reaching forward. He gently wiped away a tear that had fallen onto her cheek. She hadn’t realized she’d started crying, but once she knew she couldn’t seem to stop. “Please, vhenan,” he said softly, moving closer, taking her face in his hands. She closed her eyes briefly at the familiar warmth of his palms on her cheeks, irrationally comforting her. “Allow me a place in your life once more, and I will never betray your trust again.”

“Why?” she asked in a whisper, a thousand questions wrapped up in that one word. A tear dripped down his cheek, startling her. Why was he crying?

“I could tell you that I would not abandon my child. But that would be only part of the truth.” She frowned, confused and overwhelmed. “The reason I sought you out now is because I cannot bear to live without you any longer.” Her jaw dropped open as his thumbs gently caressed her cheeks, wiping away her tears as quickly as they fell. _Does he mean this?_ she wondered. _Truly?_ You call for me in the Fade and my soul calls back. You find me in dreams and it feels so _right_ that I no longer remember why I had convinced myself that it was not. I see you searching for me every night and I want to be caught. What remains of the Inquisition works with my agents instead of against them and I see your hand in that, your guidance. You would aid me even from so far away from both me and your people. I can no longer stay away. I can hardly remember why I had been so certain I had to. If you have found a way to do all of this, then surely you can find a way to help me, to guide me to a better path. I do not want the people of this world to suffer.” She choked on a sob and one hand slid into her hair, fingers running across her scalp in a way he knew would soothe her. “I cannot stay away any longer, no matter the consequences. If you demand that I leave, I will go. But I will never be far away. Never again.”

And then she collapsed, fainted dead away.

 

* * *

 

Lyna woke slowly, hearing agitated voices nearby arguing in hushed tones.

“So you thought it was a good idea to just show up out of nowhere and assault her?”

“I did no such thing! I do not know why she collapsed, but I suspect it was shock.”

“Not to mention that you’re trespassing in my house!”

“I couldn’t very well walk up and ring the bell. There are many who would see me dead and I needed to remain undetected.”

“And one of them is in this room, _Dread Wolf.”_

“Stop it, Hawke,” Lyna moaned, trying to sit up, surprised to find herself in her own bed on top of the sheets. Suddenly, she was surrounded by concerned faces. Hawke and Fenris elbowed Solas behind them and he didn’t fuss or fight about it. Hawke propped her up while Fenris piled pillows behind her, but she barely noticed.

He was _here._ The man she loved, the man she wanted more than anything else, the man she’d spent almost a year chasing across all of Thedas. He was standing just there, just out of reach. She needed him to close the distance.

“Solas,” she said on a breath and watched emotions flicker behind his eyes, so open and yet unreadable, his thoughts veiled only by their complexity. She held her hand out to him and he stepped forward to take it. Fenris grabbed his wrist before he could and backed him into the wall, pressing a blade against his neck.

“Stop!” Lyna cried, struggling to her feet despite the wave of dizziness that assaulted her. “Fenris, don’t!” Little Solas, in his crib, woke at the sound of his mother’s distress and started screaming. She ignored him and launched herself at Fenris, but Hawke held her back. “Let me go!” she yelled to her friend, twisting in her grip, clawing at the arms that held her to no avail. “Don’t hurt him, Fenris!”

“I know what you are. I know what you’ve done,” Fenris growled, low and dangerous and menacing. “If you hurt her, or her son, or anyone that I care about, I will hunt you to the ends of the world and beyond. I will not stop until I destroy you, by any means necessary.”

“I have no intention of harming anyone here,” Solas replied calmly. He was motionless, allowing himself to be held against the wall, but a dangerous light gleamed in his eyes; the Dread Wolf was not someone to threaten lightly. Lyna had no doubt that Solas was allowing this to happen and that Fenris wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he fought back.

“Fenris,” Lyna pleaded, unable to break free from Alie’s hold to stop him. “Let him go. You’ve made your point. Enough!” But Fenris stayed still for a moment longer before finally releasing Solas. Once Fenris had sheathed his blade, Alie released her.

She ran to him. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Lyna threw herself at Solas. A split second before she made contact, she wondered if he would even open his arms for her. But he did more than that. Solas took a step forward and met her mid-stride, wrapping her up in his warm arms and swinging her around. He showered kisses on her hair and face, crying with her.

When they finally calmed down enough to release each other, Hawke and Fenris were gone. Lyna wiped her eyes and laughed a little, then went to calm her still-screaming son. His cries slowed as soon as he saw her. She scooped him up into her arm and he wrapped a hand in her hair, put a thumb in his mouth, and quieted.

She took a deep, steadying breath and turned to Solas. His gaze was fixed on the small bundle cradled in her arm.

“He has your eyes,” he whispered reverently. She smiled.

“Yes,” she told him. “And your hair, it seems. He certainly didn’t get that mahogany color from me.”

Suddenly, like the sun coming up after a long and cold night, Solas grinned and closed the distance between them. He reached out and gently stroked his son’s cheek. The baby, for his part, instantly released his mother’s hair to reach out and grab Solas’s finger. She looked up at him and laughed when she saw that he was already enamored with the child.

“What did you name him?” Solas asked after a moment, voice still soft.

“I named him for his father.” His head jerked back as though she’d slapped him and he looked at her with wide eyes.

“Truly?” He seemed shocked. “Why?” She smiled at him.

“I hoped he would grow up to share the best of his father. I hoped that he would be brave and strong and smart and true. Willing to fight for what he believes is right. Compassionate almost to a fault. So that’s what I named him.”

With the hand that wasn’t being clutched with fat little fingers, Solas caressed her face gently. “I cannot fathom how I ever expected to be able to stay away from you,” he whispered. He leaned in and her breath started to come faster as his gaze fastened on her mouth.

“Ir abelas, vhenan. I know that my apologies will never be enough,” he whispered just before his lips met hers.

Soft and sweet and warm, firm shape yielding to her, his lips were just as she remembered. He held her head gently, touching her with only the fingers of one hand and his lips. She sighed against his mouth and licked his lip. He opened for her readily and his tongue danced with hers, as sweet an apology as she had ever received. She could have stayed there forever, their son in her arm and holding his father, their lips pressed together and tongues twining, his fingers gently stroking her cheek.

It was a long time before Solas pulled back, though Lyna truly thought that she could have kissed him for hours. He smiled down at his son and gently shook the fingers the infant still held, startling a giggle form the little boy. With his other hand, he delicately touched the wisps of dark hair that capped his skull

“Do you want to hold him?” Lyn asked after watching Solas explore his child for a while. He froze and looked up at her.

“If… you would allow it,” he said hesitantly. She smiled at him and the expression soften his own, caution blending into adoration.

“I would not keep you from it,” she told him softly. He swallowed hard and reached out for his son. The infant transferred easily from mother to father, rolling slightly and clutching at the soft pelt that was wrapped around Solas’s shoulders. Lyna repositioned his hands slightly, making certain the babe was properly supported in his father’s grasp. With an adorable little yawn and burble of noise, their son settled into his father’s embrace and drifted off to sleep again.

“He’s never this calm with new people,” Lyna whispered, watching her son grasp at his father’s chest, flexing his little fists in the fur.

“Never?” Solas asked, his voice equally soft.

“No. He always fusses when someone he doesn’t know holds him, sometimes so indignant that I have no choice but to take him back. And he never falls asleep in anyone’s arms but my own.” She looked up and met his eyes to see that tears still swam in those blue depths that she had missed so dearly.

“Lyna,” he whispered, and the sound of her name on his lips, whispered like a prayer, made her breath catch. Without thinking, she reached her left arm towards him, intending to caress his face. She was startled for a moment, as she still sometimes was, when she was unable to make contact before she remembered her missing arm. Blushing at the slip, the sign of weakness often covered by a prosthetic when she was out in public, she lowered what remained of her arm and instead used the hand she still possessed to lightly brush her fingertips over his cheek.

But he was frowning at the incomplete appendage. She turned her body slightly to hide it, as had become her habit when people stared at the missing limb, and he met her eyes again.

“There is something…” he began, then paused. He looked down at the sleeping infant he still held. “We should put him to bed,” he said. She nodded and helped him lay their son in his crib.

“Here,” he said quietly, and magic, soft and blue, sparked at his fingertips just above the crib.

Alarmed, Lyna caught his wrist, interrupting the spell. “What are you doing?” she asked tightly.

The magic had died from his hands as soon as she objected, his other hand falling to his side harmlessly. Her suspicion hurt him, she could see, but he wouldn’t object, likely believed that he deserved it. He probably did.

“A muffling spell,” he said softly. “Any noises from inside the crib can be heard clearly from without, but he will hear only well-muffled sounds. It will allow him to remain undisturbed by our conversation and allow us more freedom with volume.” She didn’t release him, casting a nervous glance to her sleeping son. “I will not cast it, if you prefer. I merely wished to make things a little easier on you.”

It was a question of trust, she realized. And it was more than a simple spell. If she allowed him to freedom to cast magic so close to her son, she was telling him and revealing to herself that she trusted him implicitly. All too easily he could remove this tether, destroy them both so that he might suffer no more distractions. Or he could do as he claimed, cast his muffling spell so that they could speak freely without worry for waking their son and decide where to go from there. Did she trust him? She already knew her answer before the unspoken question was even asked.

Lyna dropped his wrist. “Yes,” she said softly, keeping her eyes averted, somewhat embarrassed to have stopped him to begin with. “It sounds like that would be very useful.”

Solas hesitated a moment longer, eyes scanning her face, then cast his spell, blue sparks forming like a net around the crib, the power pure and beautiful.

“It is done,” he said at a normal volume, no longer whispering. Lyna nodded but said nothing, watching the soft sparks over the crib and unsure of how to proceed. The silence stretched between them, awkward and tense, until he broke it.

“There is something I could do for you, if you wish it, that I did not have the strength to accomplish before,” he said slowly. He took a half step closer and, with a gentle touch, ran a fingertip along her jaw, asking her to look at him. She did, unable now as ever to resist his touch. In his eyes she saw both sorrow and love, the strength of the emotions paining her. What must he be thinking? “I stole your arm from you when I destroyed the Anchor to keep it from destroying you. But now I can give back your arm as it was before the Anchor’s touch.”

Lyna jerked in surprise, her eyes widening. “You can give it back?” her eyes slid to the crib. How desperately she wanted to be able to hold him with both arms! To stroke his face as she held him, to be able to untangle her hair from his fists!

She started nodding, still not looking away from her son and all the possibilities that a restored limb would open. She hated her prosthetic and her son hated it more, but a true arm would be the most amazing blessing. “It will hurt,” Solas warned.

“I don’t care,” she declared, confident that she could handle it.

His touch asked her to look at him again and she complied happily, still imagining all the things she could do with both her arms again. “You will feel it all,” Solas insisted, his face dark and serious. “You will feel the scar rip to allow the new bone to form. You will feel the muscle knit across the bone and the veins take shape. You will feel your skin stretch to cover the new limb. It will be agony.” The idea of her pain tightened his face and Lyna wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“It is worth the pain,” she told him seriously, “to be able to hold my son with both arms.”

Solas hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. With gentle hands, he stretched the stump of Lyna’s arm out beside her, stepping closer until they were only a few inches apart. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his skin as her eyes fluttered closed. He smelled just as he always had, the exotic spice of his skin, the salt and musk of male, combining with the scents of paint and charcoal and leather-bound books and the heated static of magic. At the edges of the scent she knew so well, she detected elfroot and other herbs, which was new. He’d never been an alchemist before, but the scent was unmistakable. She wondered if he was wounded and had spread a salve on a wound or if he carried dried herbs in the pockets of his clothing for some reason, but she couldn’t tell for certain.

Her skin warmed gently as he began the spell to restore her limb, but the feeling quickly became scorching heat, the end of her incomplete limb dipped in molten metal. She bit her lip, her head falling forward against the mage’s chest. She stepped into his form, needing to be closer, and he wrapped an arm around her gently after a moment’s hesitation, one hand still holding her ruined arm away from her body as the spell continued.

As the agony expanded beyond any pain that Lyna had ever known and she could no longer contain her sounds of distress, though she refused to allow herself to scream, she turned her face into Solas’s neck, breathing deep of his intoxicating and comforting scent, muffling her cries with his flesh. The feeling of his arm tight around her, his hand smoothing up and down her back, and his familiar scent filling her nose allowed her to endure the pain without fighting him.

Her lip split between her teeth and blood trickled down her chin, but she couldn’t let up on the pressure, the sharp pain in her mouth preferable to the searing agony in her arm. It seemed to go on forever, though she knew that it only took a few minutes for the new limb to form.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the white hot pain faded and the sparks traveling along all her nerves were all that remained of the ordeal. She finally released her lip from her teeth and panted in relief, her shoulders slumping, relaxing into the Dread Wolf’s embrace.

“Vhenan?” he whispered questioningly, releasing her arm and leaning back, trying to get a look at her. She let him draw her away from his chest, though she wanted only to curl up against him and sleep for a week. His brows drew together sharply when he saw her face and he took a quick breath. His thumb swiped gently at the blood on her chin, but she couldn’t bring herself to care what she looked like now that the pain was finally gone. Her lip throbbed forcefully, but even that unpleasant sensation was a relief in the absence of indescribable agony.

A moment later, a tingling touch spread across her ruined lower lip, bringing soothing coolness with it; he was healing her lip for her. He smiled gently, pulling a handkerchief from some unseen pocket and using it to wipe away the blood. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his careful touch.

“Vhenan?” he whispered again when she still made no more to step away or test the new arm or say anything at all. “Lyna, please…”

The edge of fear in his voice, his worry for her, broke the shell around her mind and she thought again. She thought that perhaps she had almost gone into shock from that horrid pain, but it was time to bring herself back. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, then looked down at her left side. Carefully, tentatively, as if moving it would ignite that agony again, she lifted her arm.

She look a ragged breath as she examined her forearm and hand, the skin whole and healthy, looking just like the one she’d lost except for the absence of the Anchor in her palm. She grinned as she flexed her fingers, running her other hand over the new one, feeling the delicate bones in her wrist.

Despite her earlier intentions to go immediately to her son, Lyna could not resist looking up at the man she still loved, who watched her exploration stoically, and place her newly restored hand against his cheek.

With a raw groan, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch only to open them again and watch her face, love and relief and agony in his gaze. She stroked his face gently, feeling the sharpness of his cheekbone under smooth skin. Gently, tentatively, she traced the details of his face, touching the dark circles under his eyes and the hollows in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before, smoothing her fingers over his eyebrow and exploring the smooth, bare expanse of his scalp. He hissed in a sharp breath when she ran a finger gently along the blade of his ear, the touch one she remembered could drive him wild when they were intimate. She was almost surprised that her touch still had that effect on him.

He caught her wrist when she continued to play with the tip of his ear, pressing a kiss against her palm before lacing his fingers with hers. He caught her gaze, eyes full of raw emotion that she begin to decipher.

“Vhenan,” he whispered again, and her breath caught as the endearment left his lips.

“Is this even real?” Lyna asked, scarcely daring to believe that it could be. Instead of answering, Solas sifted his fingers through her hair, loose and flowing past her shoulders, then trailed the backs of his fingers over her collarbone, then gently touched her cheek.

“Does it feel real?” he asked. She nodded slowly. They had been together in the Fade before and there was no mistaking that experience for this. He was real and solid, standing in front of their son’s crib in her room in Hawke’s estate.

“How long will it continue to be real?” she asked in a whisper. He closed his eyes, seemingly in pain, but she didn’t understand. He never stayed and she only wanted to know if they would have this one night or if he could be gone sooner.

With a speed that made her cry out in surprise, he gripped her face in his hands and crushed his lips against hers. This kiss was nothing like the one he had bestowed upon her earlier. That had been gentle, a soft embrace, a sweet apology. This was raw, undiluted passion, nearly violent in its intensity, their need clashing and crashing together. His hands explored the curves of her face roughly, calloused fingers tracing her high, prominent cheekbones and the short point of her chin before snaking back through her white hair again. With desperation that bordered on pain, he took her mouth hard. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, flicking it against her own, then took her newly-healed lip between his teeth with no attempt at restraint. He tilted his head to the other side to take her from a new angle, never slowing as he attempted to devour her.

And she had no desire to protest or resist. She kissed him with a matching urgency, by no means simply letting him take what he clearly needed. She demanded him in return, sparring with his tongue when it passed her lips, nipping him back when he bit her. Her hands gripped him tight and held him close, her new fingers sliding along the cotton of his tunic and the fur of the pelt he wore over it. There was no armor beneath her hands, as there had been the last time she’d seen him in the waking world. He was not dressed for battle or intimidation. Instead he was dressed for travel in styles she remembered a certain humble apostate preferred, though the quality of the cloth was much higher than what he’d worn when he’d worked with the Inquisition. The wolf’s jawbone he wore on a long cord around his neck dug into her ribs where she pressed against him, just as it always had. And it was too much, too familiar, too perfect, necessary like water, and she couldn’t believe in it after everything that had happened.

“Stop!” she cried, finally breaking the kiss by throwing her head back. They were both breathing hard as he allowed her to withdraw, though he maintained his hold on her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, staying pressed against her tightly, unwilling to relinquish his grasp on her even when she squirmed half-heartedly in his grip.

“What is this, Solas?” she demanded as she caught her breath. “Why are you here?”

 _“For you,”_ he said harshly, the intensity of his tone staggering her. “Because I will not be parted from you for another moment.”

She tore herself out of his grasp and met his eyes. “What changed?” she asked, watching his expression. He seemed to wince, just for a moment. “You have told me so many times that we cannot be together, that you will not share your path with me. What changed?”

“Nothing,” he said, and she flinched away before he caught her. “In essence,” he told her slowly, intently, holding her still by gripping her shoulders, “I am a selfish creature. I always have been. In my youth, I was rash, reckless, inconsiderate. I sought pleasure for its own sake and cared nothing for the consequences. I cannot be that way anymore, and I have no desire to be, but I am still selfish.” He pressed his brow to hers again. “Falling in love with you was selfish. Allowing the relationship to bloom was selfish. Leaving you in the way I did was incredibly selfish and cruel, though I tried to convince myself that it was for your own good as well as mine. And now my selfishness will not allow me to leave again. I want you too much, I love you too much to turn away.”

Lyna pulled away again and slapped his hands away when he reached for her. It was her turn to grab his face, to trap him and force him to look at her. “You would take me with you now? You would take me and our son to wherever it is you have been hiding all this time? You would weave us into the strange fabric of your life and allow me to walk this path with you?”

“I will,” he said, voice breaking low on the vow. “Whatever it takes, whatever I must do to earn your trust back, I will do it. I will lay the world at your feet and beg for scraps of attention if that is what you ask. I will tear your enemies asunder. I will-“

“I don’t want that,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “That isn’t…” She stopped and took a breath. “I can annihilate my own enemies. I don’t need you for that.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked softly. “What is it that you need from me?”

“An apology would be a good start,” she told him. Nearly a year of anger had begun building in her chest and now it demanded release.

“Ir abelas, vhenan,” he said without hesitation. “I am sorry that I left you without explanation. I am sorry that I hurt you. I am so sorry that I left you naked and alone in that glen. If I could take it all back, I would. I would go back to that morning and I would tell you what I had brought you out to such a secluded place to say. I would have fallen to my knees before you and begged for forgiveness that I do not deserve for my deception. I would have told you who I truly am and asked if you could ever love the Dread Wolf, even though I do not deserve your affection.”

She stilled, certain that she had misheard, hoping that she had. “You meant to tell me the truth that day?” she asked, her voice distant and barely sounding like her own.

He nodded. “I brought you there to tell you the truth that you deserved to hear from me. I lost my nerve at the last moment and told you about the Vallaslin instead.”

“You _bastard!”_ she cried, striking his chest with both hands. He took a half step back, shocked by her sudden and uncharacteristic rage. “You could have prevented _all_ of this!” She hit him again, the force of the strike pushing him back. She was shaking with fury, her vision swimming with hazy red. “You could have been with me when I was pregnant!” Another furious push against him. He did nothing to defend himself, simply taking her violent anger as his due. “You could have greeted our son as he entered the world! You could have saved me from all the pitying looks people gave the lonely, pregnant cripple who was not even worth a visit from the father of her child! I was just a pathetic woman living off the charity of her friends!” In her anger and agony, she slapped him across the face. Her newly formed palm cracked loudly against his cheek and his head whipped to the side painfully. Her palm stung, fingers sore from the force of the blow, but he did not retaliate. He simply straightened and looked at her again, his cheek turning angry red before her eyes. He did not heal it, though it might bruise. _“You left me!”_ she shrieked, in far too much pain to keep quiet. “You took my heart and you _left_ with it!”

And just like that, her anger evaporated. Hot tears slid down her face and she hung her head, falling to her knees. She was drained, exhausted by the strength of her rage and its sudden departure that left only despair behind.

“You _left_ me,” she murmured, feeling again the same confusion and despair she had experienced when she realized he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. Tears fell, the same tears she’d cried each night for weeks as she ran her hands over her growing middle and wished that long artist’s fingers would twine with hers over the life that they had created within her.

Solas followed her to the floor and held her against his chest as she sobbed, clutching at him as if he would disappear at any moment. He held her silently, stroking her gently, offering comfort that she was too exhausted and too desperate for to reject.

After a long while, her tears finally dried, her sobs dissolving into hiccups. Still he held her, his grip gentle and soft. She didn’t know how long they sat there on the floor, but eventually she fell asleep, still cradled in his arms like a delicate treasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM NEVER GOING TO ATTEMPT TO WRITE A CODED LETTER AGAIN. I literally gave myself a headache with that one, guys! It took more than two hours to create that tiny piece of correspondence between Leliana and Lyna, and it's never happening again so you better like it!
> 
> Okay, this is a longggg chapter today, but there just wasn't a good stopping point in the middle! So screw it, I'll post the whole thing!
> 
> In the original version, Solas stopped Lyna from actually slapping him across the face. I decided that's actually a bit OOC when compared to how he responds to an angry/aggressive romanced Inquisitor in-game and let her actually slap him across the face. That probably hurt, but karma's a bitch, Solas! Just like you. ;)
> 
> Anyway, I had a wonderful birthday yesterday, and to everyone who sent me love and/or prompts on tumblr, thanks again! It was lovely and I adore you all!


	7. Explanations

Lyna had fallen asleep, Solas realized as her breaths deepened and her grip on him eased. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms and laid her in bed, tucking her blankets around her. He slid a look to the crib by the window, but the boy within, _his son,_ remained asleep. Solas breathed a sigh of relief that the muffling spell had worked as it was supposed to.

After making sure that Lyna was comfortable and sleeping soundly in her bed, Solas approached the little boy again. He was a father. He could scarcely believe it, even as little Solas made a small sound and stretched out a hand searchingly. He touched it gently and the infant grabbed his finger and dragged it to him, curling himself around his father’s hand.

A gentle smile curled Solas’s lips as he watched the little boy sleep. In all the long years of his life, he’d never fathered a child before. Without taking his hand from the infant in the crib, Solas turned to look at the bed where Lyna slept. Her eyes were red and swollen from her tears and she gripped her left wrist, as though even in sleep she was puzzled by its existence.

She was unique in many ways. Though she was far from his first sexual encounter, he’d never been too caught up in the moment to remember to cast a contraception spell. She had robbed him of all thought until nothing existed but her touch and the need to pleasure her.

He swallowed hard, feeling heat stir in his body at the memory of that night before guilt cooled his lust. He had been so cruel to her and so certain that it was right. He had woken just before dawn and disentangled himself from her, smiling at her sleeping face. He’d looked down at himself and been startled and more than a little horrified to see the blood that coated him where they bodies had mingled. He hadn’t known that she’d never had intercourse before, but he should have. Though she’d been enthusiastic and quick to pleasure him, she had hesitated at strange moments, places where a woman with experience would not have done so. When she was first stripped bare and he’d been drinking in the sight of her exquisite body, she trembled and her face had heated with embarrassment. He’d thought that she simply didn’t know exactly how beautiful she was, and while that was likely true it wasn’t the whole story. She’d had to stop him as he entered her because it hurt. He’d merely thought it had been a long time for her and her body needed to adjust. The thought had never once crossed his mind in their entire relationship that he was the first to enter her body.

It had been a sign of her trust and her love that she would let him in that way, but in his panic the morning after he had betrayed everything she had given him. All he’d been able to think was that he’d stolen from her, that their intimacy had been a betrayal unto itself. She hadn’t known the truth, had loved the man she thought she knew, had given herself to him, and he hadn’t had the strength to refuse. He hadn’t wanted to refuse, even though his duty called him in another direction and there was so much he had to do. Still, he’d accepted her love, loved her in return, and betrayed her.

He’d thought it would have been better for them both if he had turned her away sooner, never allowed that beautiful night to come to pass, but as he gazed at his son he found that he couldn’t regret it. He never had, not in truth; her love was the sweetest gift he had ever received, her body had given him more pleasure than he had ever known before. He’d regretted only the morning, when he had destroyed it all. He’d never truly made love before that night with her and the pleasure and companionship he’d felt with her was not something he could force himself to forget or regret. And though she’d known a lot of pain in his absence, because of him and that night, the innocent little boy in the crib was a miracle he would never want to give back.

“I need to check on her, Fenris!” Solas heard Hawke’s voice from just down the hall.

“You will only interrupt something that isn’t meant for us,” Fenris told her.

“She was screaming! Didn’t you hear? I need to make sure she’s alright.”

“She was angry, songbird. As she should be, as you were. Leave them alone tonight.” Solas shook his head, surprised to find himself grateful to the man who had threatened him earlier.

“But what if she-“

“No,” Fenris cut her off adamantly. “Leave them alone. She will tell us what happened or not tomorrow. We have no right to interfere.”

“I suppose…”

“Come back to bed. There’s nothing we can do tonight.” Hawke sighed and their footsteps receded.

The infant in the crib, still holding Solas’s hand, cooed a little and stirred. Lyna, still asleep, turned toward the sound, ready to wake at the first cry of distress. But she needed her sleep, had borne the burden of motherhood alone for too long already, so Solas gently lifted his son out of his crib and cradled him in his arms. Immediately, he fell back into a deep sleep. Solas smiled down at the boy who seemed to know his father’s touch already.

With a gentle finger, he traced his son’s features. His mother was evident in his cheeks, high and round and promising to be prominent, but Solas saw himself in the shape of the infant’s chin and the length of his ears. And, of course, the boy had his father’s hair. Long ago, before spending three millennia in uthenera, Solas had the same dark mahogany that his son now sported. He’d kept it long, plaited in many small braids and secured at the back of his neck with a black cord. It was odd to see the same unusual color on another. Touching the boy gently, Solas even found the small red highlight by his right temple that was so familiar from his own hair.

And yet he couldn’t help but wish that Lyna’s milky waves of hair graced the boy. She was uncommonly beautiful, a white angel highlighted with violet light. Before he had removed her Vallaslin, the deep purple branches had made her violet eyes appear to glow in her pale face. He thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his long life.

Solas watched her roll onto her side as she slept. Her round face, with wide, high cheekbones, a small, sharp chin, and full, bow-shaped lips, resembled the elves of Arlathan more than any other elves he’d seen since waking three years before. This odd resemblance was not what drew him to her, but it was fascinating nonetheless. Her coloring would have been unusual even then, but her classic beauty with its exotic coloring would have made her highly coveted. As a noble, she would undoubtedly have been the favorite of whichever Evanuris whose favor she sought. As a slave, she would have been highly prized, worth her weight in diamonds for a single night of-

Solas shook that thought away. He couldn’t bear to think of her that way, passed around to whomever paid her master enough for the pleasure of her company. She deserved far better than that. With a soft sigh, he laid his son back in his crib and tucked the infant in. He tried to maintain a hold on his father’s hand but was gently denied.

Solas wished he dared to crawl into Lyna’s bed with her and tuck himself behind her sleeping form as he once had. When they’d been traveling together for the Inquisition, they often shared a tent. Before curling up to sleep, she would often allow him the privilege of learning the contours and intricacies of her mouth. Sometimes she would let him hold her, straddling his lap and pressing her mouth against his. Sometimes she would lay beneath him and cradle him with her body as he attempted to devour her mouth and tried so hard to keep his hips still. And when they were both too tired to continue, or when the need to thrust between her thighs and take release with her became too much for him to bear, they would curl up together beneath the blankets and he would hold her close as she fell asleep, waiting until her breathing deepened before allowing himself to follow her.

With a deep sigh of longing for her soft body to be tucked against his in sleep, Solas settled himself into her rocking chair by the low-burning fire. He was so tired. He’d been traveling for a week, barely stopping to rest in his burning need to see her in waking once more. She’d been right; a quick query from his agents and he’d found her easily, hiding in plain sight. It had taken barely two days to locate her, though there had been no mention of a child in the reports. He wondered if his agents had known and chosen not to tell him. He could hardly see how the information could have slipped past their notice; Banal’Halam was exceptionally vigilant.

He needed sleep after his long journey; the nearest eluvian had been much farther away than it should have been, and he’d rectified that situation at once. He closed his eyes and attempted to clear his thoughts in order to rest properly, at least for a short while. If he was going to have the energy to convince her to give him another chance, he needed to rest.

He didn’t think much of his chances on that front.

 

* * *

 

Lyna woke slowly, consciousness returning little by little. When she sighed and opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Solas. A gentle smile lit her face as she allowed her eyes to slide closed again. _Asleep in a chair,_ she thought. _How often has he sat vigil for me?_

She stretched luxuriously, trying to find the sore spot that had been injured. She couldn’t quite remember what happened, but she was still half asleep. She was certain that she would remember as she stretched and made the injury twinge; she could still taste the last vestiges of healing magic in the back of her throat. Yet as she stretched and flexed se found no sore spot, no injury still mending and thrumming with lingering healing magic. She frowned and opened her eyes again.

An infant’s giggle drew her attention to the crib by the window, where the early morning sunlight highlighted the dust motes in the air above the child. Her son cooed happily, reaching up to touch the mobile she’d made for him. The stars and Elvhen symbols she had carefully carved for him spun and clattered together musically, entertaining the little boy.

“Oh!” she gasped softly, sitting up in bed. Memories flooded back; the shock of Solas’s appearance, her fury and subsequent tears. She looked at him again, somewhat surprised that he had stayed once she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

She slid out of bed, then donned her robe and tied it tight, blushing to realize that during their interactions the night before she had been wearing nothing but her thin night dress. She approached her son, who cooed happily at her appearance and reached for her. She grinned at him and began to scoop him into her right arm as she always did before she remembered. She examined her left forearm, feeling its length, then shrugged and lifted her son with both arms. He protested for a moment, unfamiliar with the sensation, but settled quickly.

Lyna jiggled little Solas and he giggled. “Sleep well, da’mi?” she asked him softly, then took him to the changing table. After wrestling him into a dry diaper, a much simpler task with both arms available for use, she picked him up and turned towards her rocking chair. Solas’s eyes, open and watching, greeted her.

Her steps hesitated, but she forced her feet to continue, determined not to falter before him. “I need that seat,” she told the god who sat in her rocking chair. He immediately vacated it in favor of a nearby stool. Lyna settled herself in the rocking chair and began feeding her son, then met her one-time lover’s eyes.

They stared at each other silently for a while. Finally, Lyna broke the silence, unable to handle his look of quiet sorrow. “Do you still intend to take us with you when you leave?” she asked.

“If you will allow it, yes,” he replied without hesitation. She tilted her head to the side, examining him, but his expression revealed nothing.

“The truth,” she demanded at last. “Tell me everything, no detail missed. I need to know.”

He sighed deeply and nodded, his sorrow deepening into guilt with a twist of his lips. “Yes, you deserve that, at least.” He was silent for a few moments longer, seeming to gather his thoughts.

“You know that I created the Veil and you know why; I wanted to free my people but did not have the means to destroy the Evanuris, so I imprisoned them. You know that I spent three thousand years wandering the Fade in uthenera. But I did not tell you that the two events are tied together.” Lyna frowned, not quite understanding.

“The Veil,” Solas continued, gaze turned away, “is a rather remarkable and incredibly powerful magical construct.” He spoke without pride or achievement, stating simple facts as he saw them. He’d never been one for boasting, and in truth the knowledge that the Veil was a magical construct had shaken many scholars’ long-held beliefs about magic and the very fabric of the world. “Creating it took immense power,” he said, and she snorted at his obvious understatement. His lips twitched but he didn’t look at her. “It is, simply put, the most powerful and complex spell ever cast. I spent years developing the spells, and it took weeks to put it into effect. I tricked the Evanuris into their prison, but I knew it would not hold them forever. So to keep them bound, I erected the Veil. The power that was required, the energy the creation consumed, is what sent me into the endless sleep. I did not mean to go. I knew that there would be a power vacuum without the Evanuris and I knew that I needed to help the People find a way to fill it. But there was nothing I could have done, No way to prevent the sleep from taking me.” He stared into the cooling embers of the fire, looking older and more exhausted than she had ever seen him.

“But I knew that I would one day be able to wake. I watched the world from the Fade, hoping that my people could find a way to thrive with the shackles of the Evanuris thrown off. It wasn’t long before I realized that my attempt to save them resulted in their destruction. I watched what your people call the quickening as it happened. I saw the horror the People felt as they began to age like the humans, something that they didn’t understand. They called it a plague, a curse, and begged me and their absent gods for guidance, for salvation, for _answers._ And I could not help them. I was trapped, just like the Evanuris, doomed to merely watch as my beloved home was swallowed by scavengers, my people consumed by slavery, everything they had once been torn away and burned.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, searching for calm. Lyna wanted to go to him, to pull him into her arms and comfort him as she once had, but she couldn’t. He didn’t deserve that, not yet.

“I waited, bided my time, wandered the Fade,” he continued after a moment. “One day, I knew, I would have the strength to wake up and find a way to fix my mistakes. I stopped counting the years, the endless expanse of time only increasing my guilt and shame. But finally, I realized that my time was nearing, that I would wake soon. So I reached out, no longer merely wandering and watching, but actively searching for those who could help me accomplish my goals. I found them in their dreams, those few I felt I could trust with my identity and who could carry out my will. I told them only what they needed to know, gave them tasks to accomplish to prepare for my awakening. There were a few whom I had known before uthenera. One who I would have called friend, even. I guided them to ancient places, showed them pieces of their heritage, lost to time. Each one received a communication crystal to coordinate their movements and, once I woke, to receive instruction from me.

“One of these first agents stumbled upon my orb, the device I had used as a focus. It had lain dormant and untouched in one of my retreats, right where I’d left it. I had him bring it to me when I woke. I’d used it to help me create the Veil and I knew that its power, which had only grown as I lay dreaming, would be the key to tearing it down. But I did not have the energy to unlock it. Though I was awake and conscious, much of my power lay out of my reach. So I allowed it to fall to Corypheus. The rest you know.”

Lyna was silent, thinking. Their son finished his meal soon after and she focused on tending him, allowing the story to replay in her mind. He was burped, changed, and settled for a nap before Lyna trusted her voice.

“You were communicating with your agents, putting plans in action, the entire time you were with the Inquisition?” she asked Solas. _The entire time you were with me,_ she meant. It was left unsaid, but he heard it anyway.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. Lyna scrubbed her face with a hand, suddenly exhausted by her own anger. She was tired of trying and failing to hate him. She was tired of always being alone, even when other people were nearby. She was tired of wishing for him to return while dreading what she would say and do if he did.

“A significant number of the elves in Thedas disappeared after the Exalted Council, including all of the elves in the Inquisition,” she observed mildly. “I take it they’re with you?”

“I called them away,” he confirmed. “Most are searching for other means to tear down the Veil, as I have been.”

“And the rest?”

“Spies, mainly. It suits my needs to know what the powers of Thedas are doing.” He shrugged, unapologetic.

“I’m a little surprised that they follow you so willingly, especially given the tales the Dalish tell about Fen’Harel,” Lyna said bluntly. He smiled, just a little, sadly.

“It took some convincing,” he murmured. “But I assure you that I hold none against their will.”

“You always have been charismatic to an almost startling degree,” she admitted, believing him.

“Ah, no one expects the humble apostate from the wilds to have much knowledge of manners, let alone a swift wit,” Solas said with a wry twist to his lips.

“No, not that,” Lyna disagreed, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it relative to what you tried to appear to be versus what you truly are. I meant it in a general sense. You have a silver tongue, and my attempts to put it to good use with the Inquisition were always waylaid by Josephine and Vivienne.” He frowned.

“You wanted to send the elven apostate whom the Orlesians introduced as your serving man to sway the nobility?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused. She snorted a laugh.

“I still remember that incident I heard about with some lady who threw wine in your face for being an elven apostate and no other reason,” she told him. “By the time that was sorted out, she retreated from Skyhold in shame and her family vowed loyalty to our cause! And that due mostly to the way you handled that situation. Even Josephine was ready to wring that woman’s neck, but you handled it. If I could have put your natural charm to proper use, we could have won over some rather unlikely allies, I thought. And I stand by that.” His smile was soft and humble as he looked at her, gratitude in his gaze that he did not need to voice.

She looked away, needing to escape from that look that could melt her knees and make her fall into his arms. She moved stiffly back over to her son’s crib and looked down at the sleeping infant. It was time to move to more personal questions and she didn’t think she could look at him, though she kept him in her periphery.

“What am I to you, Solas?” she asked, too tired and overwhelmed to be anything but blunt. He jerked, looking at her in shock, but his expression turned contemplative when he saw that she was serious.

“You are, and have always been, my heart,” he told her softly, sincerely. She turned away abruptly and returned to her rocking chair, all but collapsing into it as she tried to swallow all the intense emotions his words dredged up, things she’d been trying to deny and push away for months. “No matter what else happens,” he continued, relentless, “no matter how I’ve hurt you or what you’ve believed about me, I have always loved you.”

“But why?” she asked miserably, staring intently at the rug. “I am so small next to you.”

He shook his head sadly, nearing her. He knelt before her and gently touched her cheek, the warmth of his touch making her take a ragged breath. His gentle fingers asked her to meet his gaze and she was helpless not to, all but drowning in emotion that she couldn’t sort out. His eyes were soft and sad and yet intense, honest. He looked like her Solas again, sitting in the rotunda and debating the finer points of the folly of ancient kings while knowing that most of them had done the best they could with what they had. It was so easy to condemn the mistakes of the past when one had not been there to feel the desperation and fear and good intentions soiled by poor decisions.

“You are anything but small,” he told her, his voice low and broken with the same flood of emotion she was struggling against. “The first time I saw you, you were injured and unconscious, laid out on the cold stone floor of a prison cell. I’d been practically dragged down to you by Cassandra, who insisted I find answers about you. I examined the Anchor, slowing its spread, but I also examined you. You should not have been alive. You should have died a dozen times over by the time I saw you, yet there you were, breathing, living, bearing the mark of my magic on your hand. I was curious about you even then.

“And then Cassandra brought you to the rift I was studying, trying to find some way to close it without the Anchor. You shot an arrow just past my face and took out a demon behind me, no hesitation in your form as you fought. I had a hard time paying attention to anything but you as we destroyed the remaining demons. I showed you how to close the rift with the Anchor and you immediately laid into me with question, each answer piquing your curiosity for more.” He laughed a little at the memory. “Awake for barely a few hours after being in the brink of death, a Dalish prisoner in human hands, having barely survived events that you did not even understand, and you were trying to learn. And you did not even show the resentment you must have felt towards Cassandra, towards all those who whispered insults and threats as you passed by. You have never done as I have expected, not once. Everything about you is new and vibrant and so very _real_ , and I have waned nothing more than to share with you all the wonders I have witnessed and watch you turn the world on its ear since we first met.”

Lyna took a deep and shaking breath, stunned by his words and what they revealed. “You paint a very clear picture,” she managed to say through shock-numbed lips.

Solas caressed her face gently, his expression sad. In his eyes was a complex blend of guilt and hope that made her stomach knot. “And you?” he asked. “Could I be anything more to you than a nightmare your people warned you against? Could I be anything besides the one who hurt you for his own selfish reasons?” His voice betrayed his despair, though he clearly tried to hide it. He did not believe her answer would be yes, but he asked anyway. She laughed wetly, on the verge of tears again. Once, she would have been so sure that he knew his own value to her that she would have answered with a laugh and a kiss, but so much had happened since then. And she knew him better now. She knew that his quiet assurance hid an underlying uncertainty, a startlingly low sense of self-worth. He had made so many grave mistakes and she knew that such things would make him question everything he did. She suffered the same thing, to some degree, after everything that happened when she led the Inquisition.

She took his hand from her face and held it gently, kissing the back as he watched her. “You hurt me,” she admitted softly. “You lied to me. That won’t go away.” Then she met his eyes, showing him her sincerity. “But even so, I love you. With you, I learned comfort, a contentment I’d never known, even with my clan. Even after everything, I still want to be with you. Even after all this, you are still ma vhenan.”

His eyes gleamed and he closed them briefly as he swallowed hard. Then he moved closer, until their faces were only inches apart. “Kiss me?” he whispered across her lips. She shivered, wanting this, wanting him. So she did as he asked. She closed the distance between them and took his mouth softly. It felt oddly like coming home, much more than the kisses they’d shared last night. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, sighing happily as he surrounded her, holding her close. Their tongues danced, a warm reunion, and she couldn’t help but think that she would happily kiss this man for the rest of her life.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them and Lyna broke away with a gasp. Solas glared at the door but didn’t protest when she pulled away to answer it, tucking her robe tighter around herself.

“Yes?” she asked as she opened the door, trying to contain her annoyance. Hawke stood just beyond, examining her face as though she might have sprouted red lyrium crystals overnight.

“Well, you’re still in one piece,” she quipped, a hip cocked and a brow raised. “Is your midnight visitor bleeding out in your closet?”

“Not likely,” Solas said, approaching.

“Hmph,” Hawke replied, scowling at him.

“Enough, you two,” Lyna said tiredly, absently rubbing at her left arm.

Hawke let out a startled yell. “Your arm!” she cried, taking half a step back.

“Huh?” Lyna replied eloquently, her mind still lost in the presence of the elf at her side. Then she followed her friend’s gaze to her unfamiliar hand and understood. “Oh! Well, magic has its benefits.” She shrugged. It wasn’t much of an explanation, but she was too emotionally exhausted to properly explain.

 _“My_ magic can’t do that!” Alie cried.

 _“You_ do not have centuries of ancient and forgotten lore at your disposal,” Solas replied, disdain lifting his lip. Alie’s eyes narrowed in a way that hinted at untold damage about to be unleashed by her tongue and Lyna cut her off.

“Seriously?” she exclaimed, swatting at them both. “Enough already!”

“Fine,” Hawke pouted. Solas didn’t bother to formulate a response, merely lifted his chin slightly. Hawke turned her attention to Lyna. “Look, Orana has lunch set out in the dining room and I thought I should see if you would join us. You already missed breakfast.”

“Did I?” Lyna asked distractedly, glancing out the window at the sun’s progress across the sky.

“You really should eat something, Lyna,” Hawke said with a frown, concerned for her friend. Lyna sighed.

“Alright. I’ll dress and be down shortly.” As if on cue, her stomach took that moment to growl loudly. Hawke smiled, satisfied, and turned away. Lyna closed the door behind her.

“Should I leave?” Solas asked as Lyna turned to her closet.

“No!” she cried too loudly, reaching for him in sudden panic. Her hand grasped his wrist with ease and he moved to lace his fingers with hers, and just like that her pounding heart settled. “No,” she repeated, calmer. “Stay. Eat. Please.” Solas nodded and raised her fingers to his lips before releasing her hand. Lyna quickly retreated to her closet.

She drew on a simple shift and covered with a white gown that hugged her curves. A violet sash wrapped around her waist to complete the look. If, perhaps, she chose the outfit to remind Solas of a few of the finer qualities of her body and prove that she hadn’t lost her figure to childbirth, then who could blame her? Of course, that wasn’t at all why she’d chosen it. She nervously adjusted the low, scooped neckline and brushed out the flowing skirt, then stepped out of her closet. Solas stood in front of the crib, gently touching his son’s face. Lyna smiled at the sight, approaching.

“Would you like to carry him down?” she asked. He turned to her, mouth open to answer her question, but his words died on his lips as he looked at her. She watched him swallow hard and blushed, though it was precisely the reaction she’d been hoping for, that he still found her attractive.

He cleared his throat before managing to speak. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. She ducked her head, trying not to fidget, surprised by the force of her relief. “I would love to carry him.” Lyna nodded and scooped up her son, then settled him in his father’s arms. He didn’t wake as he was moved around, just curled into his father’s chest and managed to stick the wolf’s jawbone in his mouth and start gumming it in his sleep. Solas chuckled at the little boy’s antics and didn’t protest the slobber on his pendant.

“Come on, then,” Lyna said, and led him out of her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way better than the original, I think, mostly because it better shows the emotions. There just was nowhere near enough emotion in the original version! ugh...
> 
> Also, my chapter breaks are in entirely different spots now lol. Makes for an interesting time in my document...


	8. Transit

An elven servant was humming happily to herself as she set out lunch and Hawke and Fenris were speaking softly across the room when Solas entered the dining room on Lyna’s heel. The servant looked up and gasped in dismay.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she cried, quickly abandoning the basket of rolls she was carrying and hurrying to a cabinet. “I didn’t realize we had a visitor! I’ll set out another place right away!” She proceeded to scramble around, grabbing silverware and a plate. When she almost dropped the water glass as she filled it, Hawke stopped her and gently took the items from her hands.

“Orana, sweetheart,” she said, holding the girl steady. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I didn’t warn you.” Orana nodded but kept her head down, eyes on her feet. Hawke sighed and touched her chin, gentle encouragement to meet her eyes that demanded nothing. “You owe me nothing, remember? You are an individual. And I would never be angry with you over the table settings.” Finally, the elven girl looked up at her employer and smiled.

“Of course, Mistress,” she said fondly. Hawke grinned at her and poured the water glass herself, returning the pitcher to the side table. Orana turned to Lyna and Solas, who had watched the exchange silently.

“I’ll take charge of Solas while you eat, if you like,” she said, holding her arms out for the infant.

“Yes, Orana, that would be lovely,” Lyna said, gesturing her over with a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

Solas reluctantly handed his son into the servant’s arms, carefully removing his necklace from the boy’s mouth. As she turned to leave the room, Orana caught sight of Lyna’s left side and gave a sharp gasp. She said nothing, however, and continued on her way while cooing to the child she held.

“She seems… a bit excitable,” Solas said, trying to be delicate. Lyna chuckled, seating herself at the table. Fenris held Hawke’s chair for her before sitting beside her. Solas took the remaining seat for himself, feeling very much like an unwelcome outsider.

“That was actually better than usual,” Fenris said gruffly as he helped himself to the meal laid out before them.

Hawke, buttering a roll, laughed warmly. “Remember that time she found the dog’s collection of various table and chair legs?” Fenris chuckled with her. “I thought she was going to have an aneurysm! Poor girl kept trying to figure out where they’d all come from! He certainly didn’t take any of them from our house!”

Fenris shook his head, a small smile on his face. “She was distraught for the better part of a week,” he added. “That dog was a lot of trouble when he got bored.”

“I miss him, though,” Hawke said, smiling sadly. Fenris put his hand over hers for a moment in sympathy.

Lyna smiled at them, spearing a piece of meat with her fork. Solas had noticed that her plate was already filled and everything was cut up for her. There was no knife at her place. He watched her eat and noticed that she kept her left hand under the table, unsure of how to use it after so long without it.

“Was her previous employer cruel to her?” Solas asked, eating slowly. The food was delicious, but despite having Lyna beside him and all of them acting cordial the room felt cold to him.

Hawke snorted at his question, making Lyna roll her eyes. Fenris just sighed.

“She had no employer before,” the elven man said harshly, though his anger seemed directed elsewhere to some unseen source of pain.

“Orana was a slave in Tevinter,” Lyna clarified, voice soft. Solas supposed that explained her nervous tendencies; the life of a slave was not an easy one.

“She was the last slave left when we found her,” Hawke said, much more subdued. “The rest had already been sacrificed, their blood used to give their masters power.” She sighed, staring at her plate. “They were sacrificed because the magister knew we were coming. Even Orana’s father…”

“There was nothing you could have done to prevent it,” Fenris said, his arm wrapping around her shoulders for a moment. She smiled sadly at him. “At least Hadriana died that day, along with those who served her willingly.”

“Damn right,” Hawke replied, brightening. “Anyway,” she said, waving her fork in the air, “Orana was the last one left and she had nowhere to go. She didn’t know where she was and she’d never been anything but a slave. So I gave her directions to my house and had her meet me here after I’d finished up slaughtering the slavers who had threatened Fenris. She’s been a paid member of my household ever since.”

“You should hear her play her lute,” Lyna told Solas. “She’s so talented.”

“And she helps you take care of the little one?” Solas asked.

Lyna nodded. “She helped me figure out how to change a diaper with only one hand to work with. And she’s very good with him, so she watches him when I have business to tend to.”

“I offered to find Orana another place, if she wanted it,” Hawke said, likely sensing some of Solas’s discomfort and misattributing it. “I told her that she could go anywhere she wanted and I would help her get there. She told me that she had no family left and would much rather stay with me. She’s such a sweet girl and I’m very fortunate that she wants to stay.”

“She seems lovely,” Solas said. He said nothing more, struggling to simply continue eating while Lyna ran her hand up and down his thigh under the table. He had to take her hand and stop her after a few moments, casually sipping at his water to try to cool the heat her touch had summoned. She smirked just slightly as she bit into her roll.

“So,” Hawke said as they finished their meal. “Am I going to have to face down an ancient god or do you intend to do right by Lyna for once?”

Lyna choked, spitting her water back into her glass. “Alie!” she cried indignantly.

“What?” the other woman said, shrugging. “It’s a legitimate question.”

Solas smiled at Lyna softly. “That it is,” he said, earning two curious looks and a piercing glare.

“Don’t encourage her,” Lyna muttered, setting her water aside. Solas renewed his smile.

“To answer your perfectly legitimate question,” Solas continued, ignoring Lyna’s fresh glare, “I intend to take her and our son with me when I go. We have talked about this and agreed. And, if she will have me, I intend to marry her.”

It was Hawke’s turn to choke and Fenris clapped her on the back as she coughed. Lyna stared at Solas in open-mouthed shock. He returned her look steadily, though nerves clenched in his belly and made him feel vaguely nauseous.

“Truly?” she whispered. Solas brought her hand to his lips and let her see his sincerity in his face. He wanted this, wanted her, wanted a life with her by his side, more than he’d ever wanted anything before.

“Truly,” he told her, and delighted in the grin she gifted him with. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, their teeth clacking together before Solas adjusted the angle. She dragged him closer until he pulled her out of her chair and into his lap. She went happily, laughing against his mouth.

“It’s about damn time!” Hawke cried, slamming a hand on the table as she finally cleared her airway. Fenris sighed at his wife’s antics, shaking his head, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I’d have some champagne brought up from the cellar, but frankly I detest the stuff. There should be a few bottles left of a truly magnificent red wine, though.”

“I think, my love,” Fenris said before Solas could object to her suggestion, “that alcohol is the last thing you need right now.” Hawke sighed dramatically, but her smiled bellied her attempt at sorrow.

“But I _like_ gutting slavers with my vision hazy!” she pouted, and Fenris didn’t even bother to answer. The pair of them stood and when Hawke opened her mouth again Fenris picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed and beat his back as he carried her from the room.

“You’ll only get yourself into trouble,” he told his wife as she spat curses at him playfully. “We need to get our armor and meet Isabela at the docks.”

“Sorry about her,” Lyna said with a smile, leaning her forehead against his. He chuckled.

“It is no trouble,” he told her.

“Oh, she’s plenty of trouble,” Lyna contradicted. “Half the fights she gets into are caused by some joke she made.”

“I do not doubt it,” Solas said with a chuckle.

Lyna pulled back and examined his expression, something like desperation in her eyes. “You really meant it?” she asked softly, as though she hardly dared to believe. “You want to marry me?”

He caressed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. He could feel tears pricking his eyes and hers gleamed wetly. “If you will have me,” he told her roughly, his emotions tangling in his chest. “I still haven’t heard an answer.”

She laughed with delight and threw her arms around him again, kissing him with more glee than art. “Yes, Solas,” she whispered against his lips. “Always.” He crushed her against his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

“The only piece of furniture in here that’s mine is the crib,” Lyna said to the two elves who had materialized out of seemingly nowhere only an hour after Solas had whispered into a communication crystal similar to the one Dorian had given her before he left the Exalted Council. The pair nodded mutely and helped as she gathered up her clothes and folded them. She couldn’t help but sneak looks a Solas, who was clearing nick knacks off her dresser and carefully wrapping them in cloth before packing them into a small chest. The small, framed painting of her parents received particular care.

A sharp knock sounded at the door and a maid poked her head in. She was well-trained and her face did not reveal what she thought about the situation, for which Lyna was grateful.

“Excuse me, Miss, but Orana says that Solas is hungry,” the woman said. Lyna sighed.

Solas snagged her around the waist and planted a kiss on her cheek, chuckling when she turned her head and demanded one on the lips as well. It was so easy to fall back into old habits and familiar gestures of affection, perhaps a bit too easy when there was still so much that needed to be said between them.

“Go on, vhenan,” he whispered against her lips. “We can handle this.” She looked at the two elves and they nodded without pausing what they were doing.

Lyna pursed her lips at Solas. “Oh, very well. If you’re sure,” she said, though she had little choice when her son needed her. Solas swatted her backside gently as she left the room, making her jump in surprise and cast a grin over her shoulder at him as she left and perhaps even accentuate the sway of her hips as she walked away. He hadn’t done that to her since before their son had been conceived and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it. It was the little things that made their relationship what it was. It was the way he watched her eyes when she was debating some new study. It was the way he laced their fingers together when they walked beside each other. It was the way they teased each other. It was the way she could play pranks on him that would have gotten Sera’s ass lit on fire. A thousand little details made up their love and she had missed each and every one.

When Lyna found Orana, she was in the foyer having her breasts swatted by a very unhappy infant. Lyna couldn’t help but laugh as she rescued the servant from her misbehaving son.

“Sorry about him,” she said as he quieted and latched onto her breast.

“It’s no trouble, Miss,” Orana said, but the harried look she still had made it clear that the little boy had been plenty of trouble. Lyna smiled gently at her.

“Take a break, dear,” she said. “You look like you could use one.” Orana smiled and bobbed a little curtsey as she left.

Lyna settled onto a bench while little Solas finished his meal, contemplating the sudden changes to her life. In the space of a single day, she was getting everything she’d ever wanted. Solas was taking her with him, though she still didn’t know where, and he would allow her to remain close and to change his course as they worked together to restore their people. And she was going to marry him. The thought brought another shining smile to her face, as it did every time it crossed her mind.

“Mamae needs to know,” she told the infant suckling at her breast. “Clan Lavellan has remained right where I left them. Maybe that should change.” She grinned at the thought of her fierce mother and fiercer Keeper chastising a god they had been raised to fear for causing harm to their daughter. Lyna had been luckier than some; her father had been taken from her early in her life, but she had not one but two mothers to fill that void. They would both be thrilled, once they finished lecturing. Ashavise would be compelled to live up to her name, first. She wasn’t named for fire for nothing! Her temper could shake the very ground beneath their feet.

Solas came to find her as she was burping the fussy little bundle in her arms. He walked up right as their son spit up on his mother. As Lyna made a face, Solas threw his head back and laughed. She had never heard him laugh like that. A quiet chuckle used to be all he would ever utter, and it made her wonder just how much he was affected by everything that happened. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one feeling completely different since the night before. She grinned at him, awestruck by the rich, joyous sound as she attempted to mop herself up.

“Here, vhenan. Let me,” he said, and cast a spell at her. The vomit caught fire and burned away, leaving her clean and unsinged.

“Neat trick,” she told him, setting the soiled towel aside. Little Solas burped loudly and finally began to settle.

“I have my moments,” Solas said, still grinning. Lyna couldn’t help but smile back. “If you are ready, we can leave now.”

“Oh! Already?” Lyna asked, surprised.

“There was not much to pack,” Solas told her, shrugging. “The others have already hauled most of it away.”

“Oh…” Lyna said, looking down at her son, who was stretching his little arms and looking exceedingly pleased with himself. She didn’t look up as Solas sat beside her on the bench, close but not touching.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked softly. Lyna hesitated to answer, trying to gather her thoughts into coherence, and felt his sorrow as if a gust of wind had blown off of him. “This has all happened very fast,” he admitted. “I will force you into nothing. If you would rather have some time… Whatever happens now is by your own choice and I will abide by it.”

She looked up at him then. His face was closed, his quiet reserve firmly in place. He seemed to be bracing himself for rejection and it hurt her heart to see. So she smiled, just a little, and told him the truth. “I know what I want,” she said quietly. “I want you.” His face brightened in subtle ways; a lift of his eyelids, a relaxation of his brow, a subtle curve to his lips. His eyes were no longer mirrors and she saw his relief there, though it was as subtle as the man who felt it. “I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. I want our son to grow up surrounded by the love of his parents. I want him to know his people, what they should be.” She smiled and put a hand on his face, still surprised that she had both her hands to use. “It’s not that I’m having second thoughts about you,” she told him truthfully. “It’s just that things are moving so fast and I feel a little overwhelmed.” She moved to stand, but he held her in place gently. She looked at him, curious, and he brought his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle, a soft exploration of her lips, and she melted under his touch. His hand pressed to her cheek, holding her face just so, and she sighed against his lips, opening for him. His tongue danced against hers, flicking with a slowly building heat. He took his time, leisurely exploring the shape of her mouth. He took her lips between his teeth and gently tugged, biting. She moaned softly, surrendering to him. She had missed this, missed his touch and the way he could make heat flood in her core with a simple kiss. She licked at him to make him moan for her.

Suddenly, his teeth bit too hard and she gasped, reflexively pulling away. He released her lip, wincing and grasping at a very small hand that seemed to have been tugging none too gently on his nipple. As Solas fought with the boy to free himself without hurting either one of them, Lyna threw her head back and laughed.

“Well, at least you think it’s amusing,” Solas muttered, grimacing as his son tightened his grip.

“Here, let me show you,” she said, still chuckling, and ran her fingers along her son’s wrist. She pressed gently on the palm of his hand with her thumb and his fingers were forced to release their grip. The little trouble maker immediately reached for the wolf’s jawbone, only to have it quickly snatched away from his grasping fingers. Lyna was still laughing. Solas shook his head, struggling to look disapproving, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

“Is he always this much trouble?” he asked her, raising a brow. She grinned.

“As much trouble as his father,” she purred. She kissed his cheek lightly, then stood, smiling at Solas’s wry amusement. “Let me say goodbye to Hawke and Fenris, then we can leave.” Solas’s chuckling followed her as she went to find her friends.

She found Hawke in the hall upstairs, watching with her arms crossed and her lips pursed as the pair of silent elves carried Solas’s crib out of the bedroom. Fenris was leaning against the wall in the corner, cast in shadow, watching his wife with a half-smile tugging his lips.

“Alie,” Lyna began, but was interrupted as her friend thrust a hand in her direction, a bundle of cloth clutched in her fist.

“Here,” she grunted brusquely, refusing to look at her. Lyna blinked in surprise, then took the undyed cotton and shook it out.

“Uh…” she said, not quite sure what she was looking at. Hawke sighed and rolled her eyes, then turned to show her. She wrapped the cloth around Lyna’s shoulders, then settled little Solas into the sling that formed on her front.

“So you don’t have to carry him the whole way to wherever it is you’re going,” she said gruffly, still refusing to look Lyna in the eye.

“Alie?” Lyna asked, surprised by her friend’s behavior. The older woman sighed.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, finally meeting Lyna’s gaze. Lyna smiled when she saw the depth of concern and the suspicious gleam there.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” Lyna said, but Hawke still looked dubious. Lyna put her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “Alie, I love him. I am _very_ angry with him and he _will_ be receiving a very long and appropriately insulting lecture later on manners and other things like that, but I still love him.” Hawke’s uncharacteristically grim expression finally broke into her usual rakish smile.

“Be sure to mention how many times you cried yourself to sleep,” she suggested, blinking hard. “It always breaks _his_ resistance.” She jerked her thumb towards her husband, who sighed dramatically but said nothing. Lyna grinned at the pair of them.

“I’ll just do that,” she said.

“You’ll be alright, though?” Hawke asked, ever concerned.

Lyna nodded. “I will be. Now that I have two hands again, I can easily stick an arrow in anyone who upsets me.” Hawke laughed and even Fenris chuckled.

“I’d pay good coin to see you shoot arrows at ancient gods,” he said softly, his voice rumbling through the hall like a mountain lion stalking its prey. His voice had always struck Lyna as simultaneously incredibly sexy and very frightening. He could scare hardened criminals by talking about the weather in that tone of voice and Hawke would immediately wrap herself around his waist and beg to be taken to bed. She had a thing for his voice, too.

The two women chuckled at his comment. “Now that you mention it,” Hawke said brightly, “I’ll bring the popcorn!” Lyna shook her head at them. She’d heard Varric once comment that he didn’t understand how the two of them had been together so long when they were so different. She’d asked him if he’d ever heard the way they flirted. When he said that he hadn’t, she’d told him that was probably because they knew he’d use it in one of his books. Then she’d told him that they were perfect for each other while he laughed.

“I’ll save you both a seat, should the time ever come,” Lyna promised, and was rewarded with two bright grins. Lyna wrapped her arms around Hawke, careful to avoid squishing her son. Hawke hugged her back fiercely.

“Take care of yourself,” she said thickly.

“I will,” Lyna promised. “Try to stay out of trouble, if you can.”

“She can’t,” Fenris muttered. Hawke gave him a lewd gesture and he grinned.

Lyna turned to Fenris with a smile and opened her arms, offering a hug but trying to make it clear that she wouldn’t mind it if he denied. He gave her smile, appreciating the gesture, and accepted her hug. She was careful not to touch his skin, ever mindful of his lyrium markings that made touch painful. He pulled back much quicker than Hawke had, but she expected it. To receive a hug from Fenris at all was a sign of how much he cared for her. The elven man placed a gentle kiss on her son’s head and waved to the giggling infant.

Hawke wrapped her arms around Lyna again, startling a laugh out of her. “Don’t be a stranger,” Hawke said, fighting tears. “If you need a break or want to help destroy slavers and singlehandedly free Tevinter, drop by, okay?”

“I will, Hawke,” she said, grinning at her friend.

“And when you see your mother, because you know you have to tell her about this little development, give her my fond regards.” Hawke grinned. “She’s such a lovely woman.”

“I am not looking forward to her mood when I tell her,” Lyna muttered, grimacing.

“It won’t be that bad!” Hawke declared, flapping a hand dismissively.

“It will,” Lyna assured her. “She has quite the temper. Her name _is_ flame woman, after all…”

“But Ashavise was so sweet!” Hawke cried, surprised. Lyna nodded.

“And a controlled fire is warm and comforting. But a house fire…” she told her friend. Fenris chuckled. “I’ll visit soon,” Lyna promised them, then turned to descend the stairs and join Solas, who was waiting near the foyer. He smiled gently at her as she joined him, a nervous energy charging the air around him. He held out his hand to her and she slid her fingers into his grasp. She’d missed his hands.

“Where to?” she asked with a smile.

“I had an eluvian brought here for ease of travel,” he told her. Her face lit up when she realized that they wouldn’t be travelling long distance with a squirming infant in tow. “It is hidden in Darktown.” He started to tug her towards the front door, but she pulled him the other way.

“There’s a hidden entrance in the cellar,” she told him. “It’ll be much faster. This way.” Then she raised her voice so that Hawke and Fenris would hear upstairs. “Lock the way into Darktown behind us, would you?” she called.

“Can do!” Hawke called back, her voice raspy with tears.

“Also, I’m stealing a bottle of the Aggregio!”

“No, you’re not!” Fenris called, sticking his scowling face over the banister.

“Try to stop me!” she taunted, grinning. He opened his mouth to retort, but Hawke’s slender hand silenced him.

“You have over a _dozen_ bottles,” she told him thickly. “Let her have one!”

“Thanks, Alie!” Lyna called as she sauntered toward the cellar door, Solas chuckling as he followed.

“Anytime,” Hawke’s watery voice followed. They heard Fenris complaining about the wine even as they shut the door to the cellar behind them.

True to her word, Lyna snagged a bottle of the rich red wine as they passed Fenris’s collection. Solas chuckled as she settled it into a fold of the cloth sling that held their son.

“Is that truly necessary?” he asked her as they approached the stairs that would lead them into Darktown.

Lyna raised a brow at him. “Have you _had_ Aggregio Pavali?” she asked. “It is quite possibly the best thing to ever come out of the Imperium! Well, besides Dorian and Fenris, of course.” Solas chuckled again, shaking his head.

Hand in hand, they entered the abandoned mining tunnels beneath Kirkwall and Lyna shut the door firmly behind them. She then raised an eyebrow at Solas and let him pick the direction since she didn’t know where he’d managed to stash an eluvian down there. True, the undercity was labyrinthine and difficult to navigate, but an eluvian would draw attention so it must have been well-hidden. Sure-footed, Solas turned and began to lead her away from the door.

“Lyna!” The call came from the direction of the clinic. Lyna stiffened; she knew that voice. They turned and saw Elarra hurrying over to them.

“Elarra,” Lyna greeted, trying not to show her nerves. She really didn’t want to try to explain to the woman where she was going or why. The elven healer had taken her under her wing, but though Lyna held great respect for her she knew better than to try to explain the situation. Some secrets could not be shared, not yet.

As Elarra approached and Lyna desperately searched for a way to put her off without raising too many questions, a thoroughly average and easily overlooked elven woman seemed to materialize not five feet away. Though she had a face meant for smiles, her demeanor was stern as she gazed at the healer who was easily twice her age. Yet the look stopped Elarra in her tracks, her concerned frown changing to a look of shock.

“Fen’Harel enaste,” the girl said softly. Elarra’s mouth worked silently for a moment, her eyes travelling between the three elves before her.

“Dareth shiral,” she said finally, and turned away without a second look. After bowing briefly and shallowly at Solas, the elven girl stepped into the shadows and vanished. Solas hummed softly, tilting his head in a wolf-like gesture as he watched the healer’s retreating steps for a moment. Then he turned and tugged Lyna away, leading her deeper into the tunnels.

“What was all that?” she asked him softly.

“Many of those of Elvhen blood who are not actively working for me know of my agents for one reason or another,” he told her, whispering the words at her ear as they passed a human beggar. Solas flipped a coin in her direction, casting a smile to the little girl that clung to her skirts. The woman thanked him profusely as she hustled her child toward the nearest exit to Lowtown, speaking of a hot meal to the little girl. Lyna squeezed Solas’s hand in thanks for his generosity. “It seems that healer is familiar with at least one of my agents and knows better than to interfere.”

Lyna chuckled, shaking her head. Solas raised a brow at her in silent question. “That woman delivered ma da’mi and took care of us during my stay here,” she told him with a smile. Solas smiled back.

“Perhaps I will recruit her, then, if she is willing,” he said. “Healers are always useful and if you are comfortable and familiar with her it might make things easier for you.” Lyna grinned at him.

“If she is willing, that would be lovely,” she told him. “She will likely insist on brnging her two elven apprentices as well, however.”

“That is not an issue,” he replied.

They travelled into dark and abandoned parts of the maze that was Darktown, where only rats were present to witness their passage, when Solas finally stopped. He seemed to have chosen a completely blank part of the solid wall, but with a wave of his hand and a crackle of magic he revealed a hidden door. No one was nearby to witness the magic or the pair of them entering the small room that was revealed, and Soals hid the doorway again as soon as they were through. His magic lit a torch nearby and Lyna smiled to see the eluvian before them. It was much smaller than others she’d seen, only a little taller than the pair of elves before it, but there was no mistaking the swirl of energy on the darkened glass. It crackled and hummed and tickled her inner ear even when dormant. Solas negligently waved a hand at it and it activated, blue light swirling across its surface and further illuminating the room. Through it the Crossroads appeared, hazy and dim and covered in mist, but Lyna was eager to taste the unique quality of the air and see all the strange colors again. Solas bowed and gestured for her to step through ahead of him, smiling at her gently.

The journey into the Crossroads, though nearly instantaneous, was a jarring shock that woke little Solas. He fussed in the sling, crying out his discomfort at the change in the air, and the sound echoed loudly through the strange and silent air. Lyna tried to calm him but he was incredibly uncomfortable in this realm between worlds and would not be still. Solas crossed the eluvian behind her and it went dark as he waved a hand at it. He frowned, concerned, as their son’s wailing increased in volume.

“It would be best if we hurried, I think,” Lyna told him. “This place is not to his liking.” Solas’s brow smoothed out as he understood what troubled their son.

“Ah, yes,” he said, taking her hand again. “This way.” They hurried through the Crossroads quickly, winding through the rows of eluvians until Lyna was hopelessly lost.

“There seem to be far fewer darkened eluvians than there were the last time I was here,” she observed, peering around curiously. Solas smiled at her.

“Ever observant, I see,” he said wryly. “Yes, I’ve repaired most of them, though there are some that are beyond repair. The one that corrupted the Hero of Ferelden, for example, is irreparable.”

“Why?” Lyna asked, tilting her head curiously. Solas chuckled.

“A Dalish mage named Merrill shattered it into tiny fragments and then scattered them,” he told her. “I removed its mate here in the Crossroads. There is no use for it now.”

“Hawke hasn’t seen Merrill in quite some time, though occasionally she receives letters. Is she with you?”

“Yes,” Solas confirmed easily. “Though she required some rather intensive education in the proper ways to approach and deal with spirits, her knowledge of the Fade is extensive enough that she has been an asset to my agents as they explore ruins and try to salvage artifacts from Elvhenan. She _is_ a bit… flighty,” Solas continued delicately. “And someone she trusts always has to read her letters before she sends them to make sure that she does not accidentally reveal sensitive information.” Solas shrugged, a half-smile tugging on his lips. Lyna laughed, despite the very upset infant she was rocking in her arms.

“Yes, that sounds like what I’ve heard of Merrill,” she said with a grin.

Finally, Solas stopped in front of an eluvian. It looked no different from any of the others to her eyes.

“How do you know which one is the right one?” she asked, tilting her head to examine the magical mirror before them. With a slight smile, Solas pointed to the frame.

“There are descriptions of the destination engraved on each one, and markers to guide travelers to the correct areas,” he told her. Peering closer, she noticed words etched into the metal.

“I can’t read that, but I can see how it would make things easier,” she told him. He waved and his magic activated their doorway. Little Solas screamed a bit louder.

“I will teach you,” Solas whispered in her ear to make her shiver. “Then you can travel between any of the eluvians with ease, since they all have directions written on them.” Lyna smiled, enjoying the thought of finally reclaiming the language of her people, and stepped through the mirror to greet her new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew, it still feels all clunky and awkward... I'm still not entirely pleased with this chapter, but it's a LITTLE smoother, at least...
> 
> I've been in a bit of a rut in terms of writing. It's slow going... But I'm still working! :D Love you all!


	9. A New Home

On the other side of the eluvian, Lyna blinked hard and squinted from the sudden bright light that assailed her. The Crossroads were always shadowed by strange mists that shaded the place and Darktown was, naturally, quite dark, so the change in brightness was enough to make her eyes water. She felt rather than heard Solas step through behind her and then the crackle of magic that closed the eluvian behind them.

Lyna rubbed at her eyes and her vision finally cleared. She gasped, gaping at her surroundings as she distractedly tried to calm her son. The area where she stood was an open courtyard, the sky above bright and clear, the purest blue she had ever seen. The air was warm with a slight bite at the edge of the breeze that promised cold nights and warm days. The architecture was astounding; silvery stone formed the walls around her, smoother than granite and nearly reflective in quality. Windows stretched from the ground nearly to the ceiling, the tops arched like the shape of the eluvian behind her. The glass within them was delicately tinted the color of spring sweet grass, the diamond-shaped panes held together by the finest silverite. The overall effect was pure opulence and it made Lyna feel a little out of place standing before such obvious wealth in her simple gown, her son held in a sling of undyed cotton. She wasn’t even wearing shoes, as she had abandoned the practice once she left the Inquisition, and she ended up feeling like she was walking into the Winter Palace naked.

Her gaze drifted up and she saw that the building around her was three stories tall. The high windows continued on the upper floors, staggered rather than stacked in a pleasing pattern that was also likely more structurally sound. She returned her gaze to the ground floor and realized that the area in which she stood was a garden more than a courtyard. Medicinal plants, some of them foreign to her, grew to her right near the windows, taking up that entire side of the large space. They were planted directly in the rich, dark soil in well-ordered rows. Two young elves were tending to them, one picking away dead leaves and the other gathering clippings. Both had paused in their work to watch her, eyes wide and openly curious.

On her left, the rest of the courtyard was planted with a mixture of fragrant and beautiful flowers and edible plants including fruits and vegetables. A group of five small, elven children ran through the area, giggling as they attempted to water the plants and mostly watering each other. They seemed oblivious to the new arrivals.

Directly before her was a clear path, a cobblestone walkway that glittered with gold and silver specks in the stone and led from the eluvian to the double door of woven branches that led into the building. Lyna took a step forward, feeling uncertain, and Solas put his hand gently on her small of her back to guide her. His touch made her feel more confident in her steps as she headed for the door with him at her side.

The doors were opened for them by two guards, both heavily armed, who stood to either side. No doubt they were there to guard the eluvian against intruders, but the succeeded in intimidating Lyna as well. They showed no emotion, but their eyes were fixed on Lyna, unnerving her. It made her want to shiver with distaste, but she schooled her own expression to polite neutrality and passed them quickly.

Inside, the shameless opulence continued. Torches set in silver sconces awaited darkness, yet unlit. Sunlight streamed in from windows lining the enormous room. It seemed as though it might have been meant to be a ballroom with its vaulted ceiling and wide spaces, but was not serving that use here. Lyna caught sight of a throne that looked like a young tree had simply grown naturally into the shape of a seat, threats of gold, silver, and copper woven through the living branches to denote the same wealth the rest of the place exuded, and she thought that perhaps this was instead a throne room.

There were people milling about, talking and laughing and drinking from shining goblets. There were long, rectangular tables lining the edges of the room, filled with food, and smaller round tables littered throughout the space with chairs pushed up to them. Some people sat at the smaller tables while others stood in groups to chat. Few seemed to take notice of the new arrivals, since little Solas had finally quieted after his distressing trip through the Crossroads.

Solas guided her through the room, seemingly headed for the throne until she noticed a door carved into the seamless stone of the wall behind it towards the right corner. She might not have noticed it at all but for the heavy polished bronze handle. It was difficult for her to walk through the throng of people she didn’t know, had been actively working against, and if not for Solas’s hand warming her through her dress she might have bolted. She’d never thought of herself as particularly cowardly, had endured far worse than the curious stares she was currently receiving, but this was somehow different. She kept her chin up and her eyes on the handle of the door rather than looking around.

There was a gasp and a clatter as a goblet was dropped and Lyna winced slightly as silence descended on the hall and those who had thus far ignored her presence turned to stare. Solas did not slow, seeming not to notice the commotion. Lyna tried to keep her face expressionless, but couldn’t quite conceal the twist of a grimace on her lips.

“Lyna!” a voice called from her right and Lyna turned, frowning in surprise. The person who had dropped the goblet that had gathered the attention of the hall was staring at her with wide, startled grey eyes. The elven woman had shockingly red hair floating in unruly curls about her narrow face. She was shorter than average with a very lean build, her thin lips open in shock and her naturally pale skin was tanned. Small lines fanned out from her eyes and lips, showing the woman’s age. Though she was barefaced, her Vallaslin removed, Lyna recognized her.

“Ali?” Lyna whispered, shocked. “Alifalon? Is that really you?” She stood frozen, her steps halted by her surprise. The other woman laughed.

“None other!” she cried, approaching with a grin. They embraced, Lyna still trying to wrap her mind around the appearance of a member of her clan there.

“But Ali… Everyone thought you were dead!” Lyna said, examining the woman’s face closely. Ali’s open and warm expression soured.

“They were supposed to think that,” she said. “I made sure of it.” Lyna frowned.

“But why? Your bond mate… He was distraught! We all were.”

“He should be,” the woman said darkly, the fire of fury burning behind her eyes. Lyna drew her head back, shocked. Alifalon took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, shaking her head. She sighed and met Lyna’s eyes. “Drynne was no proper bond mate,” she said quietly. “When I was approached in my dreams by Fen’Harel,” she said, bowing briefly to Solas, “I was frightened at first, as any properly brought up Dalish girl would be. But promises of safety and freedom and to be away from Drynne were too much to resist. So I faked my death in a hunting accident using a carefully carved up dear carcass and some of my own hair. I’ve been here ever since, or wherever my lord needs me to be.”

“Ma serannas,” Solas murmured, bowing his head to the woman. She smiled. “Alifalon was among those who repaired this dwelling and made it livable for us,” he said to Lyna. “She was instrumental to its restoration.” Alifalon glowed with pride at his praise.

“The structure was largely intact,” she demurred. “Most of what I did was scrub away dirt and grime.”

Solas cast his eyes between Lyna and Alifalon, seeming mildly upset as he said, “I admit that I did not connect the two of you to the same clan.”

“I cut all ties, my lord,” Alifalon said quickly. “I no longer acknowledge my clan name.”

“What happened, Ali?” Lyna asked. “What did Drynne do that was so bad?” Ali sighed.

“In front of the clan, he was everything a proper Dalish hunter should be. He was strong and resourceful and brave, a protector,” she said bitterly, scowling at her own memories. “Behind closed doors, however, he was cruel and selfish. He hurt me, made me feel as if he had unlimited power over me. He took what he wanted from me and I could not object. I was his property, not his partner.”

“Why didn’t you go to the Keeper?” Lyna asked, horrified. She’d never particularly liked Drynne, but she’d never thought he would have had such awful things hiding behind that brittle smile.

“I _did_ ,” she said firmly, her anger making a second appearance before she looked away and breathed deeply. “Deshanna was convinced that I was imagining things. She couldn’t help me because she saw in Drynne only what he wanted her to see.”

“Oh, Ali, I’m so-“

“Don’t apologize,” Alifalon interrupted, slicing her hand through the air sharply. “It wasn’t your fault. You were only a child while all this was happening.” Lyna laughed a little.

“I received my Vallaslin two months before you died,” she reminded the older woman dryly. Alie snorted at her.

“You were barely thirteen and being named a full hunter and adult of the clan,” she said dismissively. Lyna could feel Solas’s eyes on the side of her head but she ignored him in favor of the long-lost clan member before her. He hadn’t known that about her, how young she’d been when she was marked. In fact, he knew rather little about her time with her clan. “I know you were a prodigy with a bow and wise beyond your years,” Alifalon continued, seeming oblivious to Solas’s attention, “but you were _thirteen._ You were at least three years too young for it.” Lyna shook her head.

“You should know that age does not necessarily denote maturity,” she said with a smile. “Don’t you remember the storyteller putting prickleweed in the old Keeper’s pillow? How old was he when he did that?”

Alifalon laughed. “At least, oh, a hundred?” she quipped, and they laughed together for a moment. Then they grew serious once more.

“If it helps, Drynne is dead these ten years.” Alifalon smiled, just a little, though it was a bitter sort of thing. Just then, little Solas made a mewling noise and reached up to tug on his mother’s hair, deciding that he had been ignored long enough. Lyna winced and unwound it from his fist, but he complained and tugged at another strand. Lyna sighed.

“Oh!” Alifalon said, seeming to notice the infant for the first time. “And who is this?” Lyna smiled a little.

“This is Solas,” she said, lifting the infant out of the sling so Ali could see him properly. “He is named for his father.” Alifalon froze, even stopped breathing for a moment, looking like a statue as her eyes flickered between Solas, Lyna, and the infant she held.

“ _You_ are the Wolf’s Halla,” she whispered reverently. Solas sighed in irritation.

“What?” Lyna asked, confused, looking between the two of them. Alifalon cleared her throat awkwardly and started backing away.

“Forgive me, I have taken up too much of your time,” she said, suddenly seeming nervous.

“Ali, what in the Void are you talking about?” Lyna asked, slightly frustrated with the woman’s retreat.

“I will explain,” Solas said, his hand on her back to guide her again. Lyna cast a confused and worried glance over her should at Alifalon as she was led away. The woman’s eyes were still trained on her, but she said nothing.

Once Lyna and Solas were through the door behind the grand throne, Solas shut it and shook his head with an irritated sigh. He led Lyna up a flight of wide, shallow stairs that curved in a spiral. Lyna was confused by the number of stairs they ascended, as it seemed like they were going much higher than the structure she had seen so far. Though there were no windows to light the way, glass sconces held what looked like suspended fire. There was no visible fuel source and the glass completely covered and surrounded the flickering flames. From what Lyna knew about fire, they should not have been able to sustain themselves.

“It is an old magic,” Solas told her when she asked about them. “One of only a few of the old magics still accessible now. Once it was entirely commonplace. Simply put, the flames are in a time loop. They will never go out since no time passes for them.”

“I thought you couldn’t do time magic,” she said, peering at him curiously. “The events at Redcliffe seemed to catch you off guard.”

“Solas smiled at her. “I cannot travel through time, no. I am still uncertain how Alexius managed it. This spell is a suspension of time in a small area, which is entirely different.”

“If you say so,” Lyna muttered, not convinced. Solas chuckled.

“So why did Ali call me the Wolf’s Halla?” she asked.

“There have been rumors,” Solas said, his tone displeased, “that I had a lover whom I left behind. I do not know who began the rumors, but I have not acknowledged them. They only grew, however.” He slanted a look at her as they climbed the stairs side by side. “You should know that many have begun to believe that this imagined lover of mine is a goddess.” Lyna coughed in shock and Solas smiled slightly. “I find it difficult to argue with that claim, however. She is nearly divine in many ways.” Lyna laughed dismissively and his smile became a grin. “Likely you will be treated with shocked awe and caution for a while as a result of these rumors.”

Lyna didn’t really know what to say in response. “I’m no halla,” she muttered defensively. He laughed.

“No,” he agreed softly. “You are much more akin to a wolf. You are fiery and strong and brave. You are cunning enough to keep an old trickster on his toes and beautiful in your ferocity.” She clucked her disapproval but couldn’t quite hide her pleased smile.

The three of them finally reached the top of the stairs and Solas pushed open a door that matched the one at the bottom of the stairwell. He gestured for Lyna to enter ahead of him, a smile tugging at his lips. She walked past him and stopped just inside the room, gasping in awe.

The same silvery stone made up two of the walls and the floor, but the walls that faced east and west as well as the ceiling were entirely made of clear glass. It was flawless, unbroken except where the walls met the ceiling in copper joints. There were no small panes of glass held together here as there had been downstairs. The glass was thick but entirely clear, like crystal. And the view through it was spectacular. As far as Lyna could see in any direction past the boundaries of the castle, which looked far more like a fortress from this vantage with its tall walls and fortified battlements, was a lush and vibrant forest. The trees stretched tall, reaching for the sky, ancient and wild and beautiful. It reminded her of the Arbor Wilds, though even from this distance she could see that many of the plants were different.

Within the room, the stone floor was covered in overlapping layers of silk rugs in all the colors of leaves in autumn. Copper candelabra shaped like branches twisting up from the floor lined the perimeter of the room, awaiting the fall of night to be lit. Set just in front of the west-facing window-wall was an ornate carved oak desk. Though the piece was finely made and obviously of great value, it was covered in a very familiar sort of clutter. The chair before it, carved to matched the desk and lined in cushions, was pushed back at an angle that, again, she recognized. Solas’s desk and chair at Skyhold had looked much the same, though they had been much simpler in design.

Short bookshelves, only waist high so as not to block the view, sat before both window-walls at intervals, filled with a variety of tomes. She saw some that looked as ancient as the man who owned them and some that still shone with fresh leather oil. Some were huge, thousands of pages long, and others were much skinnier. Some matched, clearly a set of some sort, and many didn’t. It looked to be an eclectic collection, to say the least. Some of the titles on the spines were in Elvhen, though she couldn’t make out much. Many were written in the common tongue, and she saw some that were in Orlesian, some in Tevine, which she only recognized because of Dorian, and some that she couldn’t identify at all. _Solas must speak many languages,_ she thought as she looked over the collection of hundreds of books. _I suppose he’s had plenty of time to learn. Still, I never knew just how many languages he speaks_.

In the center of the room, dominating the enormous space, was a very large bed. Like the throne far below them, it seemed that a tree had simply grown into a useful shape. The wood was dark, the bark smooth like the finest oiled and polished oak. The branches twisted up to form a four-poster canopy with a cloth top that could be retracted so that the sky could be viewed while lying in bed. The canopy curtains were draped gold silk tied to the posts. The bed itself was a thick and luxurious mattress made up with velvet blankets the color of summer grasses, strewn with many pillows of silk and velvet in moss green.

On the back wall behind the bed, the silvery stone was hung with tapestries that seemed to depict scenes from ancient Elvhenan, the stylized figures and floating buildings somewhat familiar from other art, though one that drew her eyes was the form of a great wolf. It howled at a full moon, sharp teeth barely visible. The line of its throat was broken by a cord on which hung a familiar fossilized jawbone. The wolf was dark as pitch, its form slightly hazy as if it were an apparition. It had six eyes the color of rubies glittering in firelight, open and hungry. Lyna found it simultaneously terrifying and comforting, which confused her enough to make her look away from it.

There was a fireplace on the back wall near the west corner, as well, with couches and cushioned chairs set before it. Near the east corner, Lyna spied the small pile of her belongings waiting for her, little Solas’s crib among them. A narrow and discreet door was set into the wall behind them.

“What do you think?” Solas asked softly when she remained silent. She took a few steps further into her room, spying a large, ornate wardrobe that matched the desk behind the bed on the far wall.

“It’s…” Lyna began, then shook her head. “I have no words,” she confessed, feeling entirely overwhelmed. “It’s incredible.” She turned back to him to see a small, satisfied smile on his lips as watched her, though his eyes betrayed his nervousness.

“Naturally you may change anything you wish. This space is your now, too,” he told her softly. She started laughing, not even sure why, until she felt hot tears sliding down her face.

Solas strode up to her and gently tilted her face up with one finger under her chin. He looked concerned, confused as he gently swiped at the tears on her cheeks, and it helped her calm herself. She wiped her eyes and gave him a grin.

“This is beyond anything I could have dreamed,” she told him softly.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Of course!” she cried. She spun to take in the beauty of the room again and sighed happily. She stared up at the glass ceiling. “I’m going to love it when it rains,” she said wistfully. Solas chuckled.

“It is definitely its own sort of magic,” he told her.

“How is this even possible?” she asked. “I’ve never seen windows like this.”

“Magic,” he whispered right at her ear, his breath tickling her. She jumped, startled and swatted at him.

“I’m serious!” she insisted, moving to explore the room.

“As am I,” Solas told her as she touched the wood of the bed. It was _soft!_

“So explain it to me,” she said, running a hand over the soft cotton blankets before moving to examine the desk. He chuckled.

“That will be difficult, but I will make the attempt,” he said, a smile in his voice as she picked up a small amulet from his desk, peering at it closely. When it sparked with magic, she quickly set it down. “It is crystal, not glass. Quartz, to be exact.” She peered at the windows with renewed interest before running her hand along the far wall as she crossed to the bookshelves. “Quartz has many useful properties in magic. The one that makes this room possible is the ability to absorb and retain magical energies. Though this stronghold was in ruins when my people first came to restore it, this room was remarkably intact thanks in large part to the windows. Long ago, when this place was my home, I made the windows myself. I imbued them with magic to make them so clear and strong and as a focus for my energy, and thus they managed to survive the ages with very little damage from the passage of time. I had to repair a few cracks and strengthen the joints where the walls meet the ceiling, but that was all. While they are aesthetically pleasing, they also serve to focus energy and store it for later use. I recommend against touching.” He said that last quickly as he hand was reaching out to do just that.

“Why?” she asked, pausing to tilt her head at him.

“It would likely be uncomfortable, similar to the feeling of an electrical storm,” he told her. She dropped her hand immediately. “I doubt it would injure you, but until I can calm the energy in the crystal I would ask you not to try.” She nodded and continued exploring the bookshelves. When her exploration of the room brought her back around to him, she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his face to hers for a kiss. His hands stayed lightly clasped behind his back, but his lips returned her passion fervently. She pulled back and grinned at him.

“Help me move the crib?” she asked as she stepped away. He nodded, smiling sincerely, and followed her.

When she would have tried to help him, he lifted the crib away from her, asking where she would like it. She planted her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at him. He just raised a brow at her.

“By the east window,” she told him when it became apparent that he would not allow her to help. “He likes the morning sunlight.” Solas smiled at her and settled the crib into the space between two book cases. Lyna sighed, going over everything she would need to keep her son happy and healthy. “I need a new changing table,” she murmured to herself, surveying the room. “And some way to contain him while he plays. New toys…” She tilted her head at the pile of her possessions. There were barely a dozen bags there, none larger than the pack she used to carry while traveling with the Inquisition. And not a single thing she owned was worthy of the beauty and opulence of the room. She sighed again.

“Make a list, vhenan,” Solas told her. “A new changing table can be made quickly. Toys can be purchased or made, as can anything else our son requires. A list with specifications can be given to the servants.”

“Servants?” she asked, surprised.

Solas raised a brow. “They are necessary for any settlement to function,” he said. “I assure you, each and every one chose their position and take pride in it. All of the cooks work in the kitchens because it pleases them to do so. Everyone who cleans does so because they enjoy a tidy area. Those who cultivate the gardens enjoy working in the soil. Everyone who has joined me here is free to pursue their passions and well-compensated for their work.”

Lyna nodded. “I believe you,” she said, adjusting the blankets in the crib. She settled little Solas into it and he gleefully squealed and batted at his mobile, making Lyna grin. She turned then to her belongings. She wasn’t even certain she wanted to keep most of them. They were cast offs, mostly, things she had salvaged for her own use. She dug through them until she found what she was looking for, the one thing she would always keep.

She smiled at the small painting of her parents. Few Dalish had the luxury of such items. Most had only their memories to tell them what deceased loved ones looked like, but Lyna’s father had been born in an Alienage. On a few occasions, he had convinced her mother to sneak away with him to visit his friends and family who had still resided in Ostwick. Lyna had exchanged letters when she was younger with twin cousins who lived in the city between visits, though they had drifted apart in the years since she had last snuck into the city to see them. The painting had been done by her father’s friend and given to the couple on the anniversary of their bonding while Ashavise was pregnant with Lyna, though her mother hadn’t yet been aware of it. With a small sigh, Lyna set the painting in its simple frame atop the book case nearest her son’s crib.

“They are your parents?” Solas asked, watching her. She nodded, still gazing at the painting, and they were silent for a moment. “Would you like to invite your clan here?” he asked her. She turned to look at him, searching his face in surprise.

“I… You would allow that?” she asked. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she leaned into the caress without a thought.

“If you are to be my wife,” he said, his words sending shivers of excitement through her, “then you rule this place as much as I do. You are my equal in all things. If you wish to invite them and they will dedicate themselves to our cause, then I have no power to refuse even if I wished to.”

“Rule?” Lyna whispered, frowning. She hadn’t known exactly what position Solas would take among his people and she hadn’t thought as much as she should have about what bonding with him would mean for her life beyond that she would spend it with him. She had already been a powerful leader and had rejected the role, yet she knew this would be different. As Inquisitor, she had represented many figures and values that she did believe in, Andraste being the most prominent. Yet in this place at Solas’s side, she would represent her people and the hope for their future, no more and no less. She knew she could help her people and she wanted that desperately.

Solas tilted his head at her, still lightly running his fingertips along her skin. “It took a very long time to convince the people her to stop referring to me as a god or a king,” he told her, humor hidden behind his words. “They call me their lord and I have no patience left to fight the title. It is accurate enough for the time being, in any case. I, and now you as well, guide all those who would follow Fen’Harel. We guide them and give them purpose and hope. They fight to see the world that was stolen from them restored, just as we do.”

“I suppose it will just take some getting used to,” she told him with a smile. Solas leaned forward and gently kissed her brow.

“You held more power than this as Inquisitor,” he reminded her, echoing her thoughts. “This won’t be so bad.” She chuckled.

“I have spent over a year now in obscurity and I didn’t really expect that to change,” she told him. He looked uncertain for a moment, his calm confidence wavering, but she cut him off before he could say anything. “I don’t mind having a title again, really. I choose you and this life. I choose to help you restore what the People have lost. If that means taking a title and power again, so be it. At least I won’t be the Herald of a god I don’t worship this time.” He smiled, his uncertainty gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm still in love with this damn castle... I've expanded on it a bit and have plans for more! I changed a few details and added to the descriptions, but otherwise this chapter is mostly the same. Still kinda boring, mostly just descriptions and exposition, but it'll get better! I promise!


	10. Ara Arlise

Lyna spent the next couple of hours compiling a list of what she needed to make her son comfortable. She sketched a rough design for a changing table, which Solas promptly confiscated and made significant changes to. When she protested how ornate he had made the design, he only grinned and told her it would match the other furniture. She sighed and relented. While she sketched designs for some toys and made a list of other necessities, Solas worked on a few sketches of his own, though he hid them from her playfully when she tried to peek over his shoulder.

“That’s not fair!” she told him, giggling as he obscured her vision by conjuring mist between her eyes and the paper.

“Work on your own sketches,” he told her, laughing as she tried to duck and dodge through the mist to no avail. “You’ll see this when it is complete!”

“Hmph,” she told him, and stomped away with her head held high to complete her work. She was grinning as she settled herself in a chair by the fireplace and Solas continued to chuckle.

When she finished her list of items, Solas snatched it from her and added to it while she pouted playfully. Then he bundled the list with their sketches and conjured a brilliant flash of light that made the papers blink out of existence.

“What did you do?” she asked, staring at is now-empty hands.

“I sent them where they needed to go,” he told her. She raised a brow.

“That’s convenient.” He hummed affirmatively.

“There are a few hours yet before dinner,” he told her, checking the sun’s progress through the sky. “Would you like to visit your clan?”

Lyna’s brows inched toward her hairline. “We can visit my clan and be back before dinner?” she asked incredulously. He smiled and bowed modestly. She shook her head at him and went to gather the sling Hawke had given her. There was a lot they still needed to discuss, but Lyna wanted to see her family again and there would be plenty of time to talk.

“If I may,” Solas said hesitantly as she began to wrap the sling around her shoulders again, “I would like to carry him.” She smiled at him and handed him the sling. He wrapped it around him with surprising ease once he deposited the wine bottle still wrapped in it on a nearby bookshelf. With careful hands, he lifted his son, who cooed happily at him, and settled the little boy against his chest.

“I have been taking care of him alone for his entire life,” Lyna said softly as she watched their son babble at the fingers waving in front of his face. “I didn’t really expect that to change.” Solas met her gaze, his grief clear to her, but she smiled. “I’m glad you want to be with him and take care of him and hold him. But it is easy to forget that you are here to do so.”

Solas pressed his lips to Lyna’s cheek, then sighed. “I wish to be here for both of you,” he told her. “I cannot change the fact that I missed important moments. I cannot change what I have done. But I will do better for you both, that much I can promise.” Lyna leaned over their son to kiss him, hands wrapping around the back of his neck to hold him.

“I know,” she whispered against his lips, smiling, heart full of love for him. Then she stepped away and together they descended the staircase to the throne room, which was much emptier than before. They made their way through the garden, which held over a dozen squealing children and a handful of adults, and Solas activated the eluvian.

“Shh, da’mi,” Lyna cooed to her son when she began wailing the moment they passed into the Crossroads again. Solas rocked him gently, trying to comfort him, but nothing helped. The parents sighed.

“He really doesn’t like it here,” Lyna said, pursing her lips.

“Evidently not,” Solas replied. “Let’s try to hurry, then.” He led her through the labyrinthine Crossroads to the eluvian he wanted and activated it with a simple gesture. They quickly stepped through and little Solas quieted almost immediately. Lyna shook her head at him with a sigh, then looked around herself.

A couple of elves, lightly armored and armed, jumped to their feet at their arrival, giving them shallow bows. One bore Vallaslin and the other did not, which Lyna found interesting.

“My lord,” the taller of them said respectfully as they straightened.

“Do you have mounts available?” Solas asked them. The shorter one nodded and bounded off into the trees.

“Do you require an escort?” the elven man who remained asked respectfully.

Solas shook his head. “That is not necessary, thank you. We will be heading to Wycome. We may be receiving a number of recruits, though I am not certain. I will send word. They will need an escort through the Crossroads to Sa’amal’uan.”

“Of course.” The sentry bowed again as a pair of horses was brought forward.

“I hope you can ride bareback,” Solas said with a smirk. Lyna rolled her eyes.

“When have you ever known me to use a saddle?” she asked in reply and was rewarded by his smile. She went to the nearest mount and introduced herself, running her hands gently along the mare’s neck and bowing into her nose. The mare snorted and stomped, then blew back and bowed her head in submission. Lyna patted her affectionately and climbed on with ease. Solas approached, a brow arched, likely surprised at the way she established herself with her mouth, though he didn’t comment. He hadn’t been in the stables whenever they received a new mount, hadn’t seen her introduce herself to them all.

“Hold him while I mount up?” he requested, handing their son up to her. She cradled the boy while Solas mounted the other horse, then guided the mare close enough to take him back and settle him in the sling again. They set off at a leisurely trot.

“I’ve always hated shemlen saddles,” Lyna confided. “They’re restrictive to both mount and rider.” Solas grinned at her.

“I agree,” he said simply.

“So the name of the palace is Sa’amal’uan?” she asked conversationally, gaze sliding to him.

“Ah, I hadn’t realized that I’d neglected to mention it,” Solas said apologetically.

“Why that name?” Lyna ask curiously. “One protecting nine?” I don’t understand.”

“It is called ‘one _keeping_ nine,’ actually. It bears that name from the time of the rebellion,” he told her. “I, alone, was attempting to keep my brethren in line. Though we were kin, I knew early in the rebellion that I would be forced to lock them away somehow. I tried to find another answer for a long time.”

“But I thought there were only eight others,” Lyna said, watching his face. His expression tightened and he didn’t meet her eyes.

“There were nine including myself,” he told her.

“But why do you include yourself?”

“Though I never kept slaves and tried to treat my people well, I cannot deny that I was part of the problem I fought so hard to fix,” he told her quietly. “In my youth I was brash, rash, ignored the consequences of my actions. I had to keep the nine of us from destroying the People.”

Lyna was silent then, thinking. Wycome drew close quickly. They’d been only an hour’s ride away, which surprised her for a moment until she remembered that he had spies all across Thedas. Likely heh ad eluvians placed within a day’s ride of every major settlement.

“I see your point,” Lyna said as they neared the city’s gates. “I know you’ve made plenty of mistakes. But I also know that you will always be part of the solution.” She grinned at his startled expression and kicked her horse into a canter, laughing as they raced the rest of the distance into the city. She beat him only because he was struggling to keep their son from bouncing too hard during the ride.

“Halt,” a human guard demanded as they entered. “What business do you have here?” Lyna raised a brow at him.

“Does Keeper Deshanna know that you treat guests so harshly?” she asked. The man flushed but did not back down. “As it happens, I have business with the Keeper and Clan Lavellan.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What business?” he asked. Her face hardened.

“That is not your concern,” she told him. “I have been here before and such hostility was never shown to me. I suggest you tell me where I may find the Keeper.” Her subtle threat made him clench his teeth. He opened his mouth to retort but Solas cut him off.

“Do you even have the authority to stop us?” he asked the man quietly, a less-than-subtle threat in his voice. An elven woman strode up behind the guard and smacked the back of his head before he could reply.

“Oh, get off, Lez,” she said, her language uneducated. “I thought I told you to stop interrogating everyone who enters the city.” For some reason, the man ducked his head and murmured apologies to the woman rather than assaulting her as Lyna half expected. The elf turned her attention to the riders. “Sorry about him,” she said, smiling warmly and displaying the gap of a missing front tooth. “We had some trouble with bandits slipping in with the merchant caravans a few weeks ago. It’s all been taken care of, though. Those that weren’t killed are in cozy little cells. Nothing to worry about.”

Solas inclined his head graciously. “No harm done,” he said, his threatening tone nowhere in evidence.

“D’you need help finding anything?” she asked. The human she’d called Lez wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against his body. She smacked him again. “Lez, don’t make me sic my mother on you!” she cried. He winced.

“I only wanted a kiss, love,” he muttered, backing off quickly. Lyna’s eyebrows must have touched her hairline in her shock. The woman patted his cheek affectionately, then turned to find Lyna staring. She laughed awkwardly.

“Newly married,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not exactly conventional, I know, but I love the big oaf.” Lyna smiled.

“Congratulations,” she told her, and they both grinned. “We’re looking for Keeper Deshanna,” she told the pair of them.

“Oh, you’ll find her in the castle,” the elf told them easily. “Just follow Market Street all the way up. You’ll find it. There’s stable hands to take care of your horses for you. If you’re staying the night, The Wounded Druffalo is the best inn in town.”

“Thank you,” Solas said, and they nudged their horses forward. The pair of them garnered less interest than she had expected as they followed the road up to the castle. Though the streets were busy, shopkeepers shouting about their wares and elves and humans alike brows, only a few even bothered to glance their way. When Lyna had last visited her clan and family, Wycome had still been settling in with their new elven residents and had not been quite so at peace.

When they reached the castle, a young elven boy raced up to take charge of their horses. They dismounted as the boy tried to figure out how to lead them away without reins.

“Take a handful of their manes,” Lyna told him. His face brightened as he followed her suggestion.

“Thank you, miss,” he said, bobbing a shallow bow.

They entered the castle at a leisurely pace and saw elves and humans both milling around. City elves conversed easily with the Dalish of Clan Lavellan, joined by humans. It was unlike anything Lyna had seen before.

At the end of the main hall, they heard raised, agitated voices. Turning her eyes in that direction, Lyna spotted Keeper Deshanna arguing hotly with a pair of humans while an elf beside her struggled to keep up and take note of what she was saying. Lyna grinned as she saw her Keeper’s small, wrinkled hands flying through the air in broad, agitated gestures that she recognized from her childhood.

“Deshanna!” Lyna called as they approached. The argument stopped as Deshanna turned to find who was calling her, scowling. Her frown changed to a look of shock when she found Lyna approaching with a smile.

“Lyna?” she exclaimed, drawing near. She limped slightly, favoring her right leg, but otherwise seemed as proud and unbending as ever as she reached them. Lyna grinned, tears misting her eyes.

“It’s me, Keeper,” she said.

“Oh, da’len!” Deshanna cried, wrapping her up in her strong arms. “We’ve missed you!” Lyna returned her embrace fiercely, trying to fight her tears.

“Aneth ara, Keeper,” she said thickly.

“Andaran atish’an, da’len,” Deshanna replied. She pulled back and held Lyna at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Oh! Your hair is so long now!”

“So is yours,” Lyna replied, brushing at a strand of thick, gray hair that fell nearly to the woman’s waist. Deshanna’s white teeth lit up her teak skin, the wrinkles making her sharp features seem softer and the woman more approachable when she smiled. The dark brown eyes that Lyna remembered so well from her childhood twinkled with a kindly light. Sylaise’s Vallaslin curved through her wrinkles, its shape somewhat distorted by her age. “Is Mamae around?”

“Yes, Ashavise should be back any minute. She went to use the privy,” Deshanna told her. Her dark eyes slid to Solas, who stood back and watched the reunion silently. She said nothing, though curiosity lit her features as she examined him from head to toe and noted the way he cradled the child in the sling.

“How have you and the clan been, Keeper?” Lyna asked to fill the time. Deshanna grinned, her attention returning to Lyna.

“Quite well,” she said. “The humans have been very considerate to us since we helped them oust the Venatori. The alienage no longer exists.” Lyna gasped and the Keeper grinned. “All the buildings were torn down and rebuilt into proper dwellings. Elves and humans alike live in the area now. Our people mingle easily with the humans. Silvhen has told me that he and his wife are expecting a half-human babe.”

“Silvhen married a human since I last visited?” Lyna asked, shocked. “But he always hated shems!” Deshanna chuckled.

“Times change, da’len. You know that,” she said.

“Yes,” she replied, “but Silvhen doesn’t!” Deshanna laughed.

“Lyna?” an incredulous voice asked. Lyna turned to see her mother approaching at a trot. She grinned and ran into her embrace.

“Mamae!” she cried, breathing deep of her mother’s familiar scent. She smelled of flowers and fresh-tilled soil as she always did.

“My child, what are you doing here?” Ashavise asked, pulling away to caress her daughter’s face. Lyna pulled away slightly so she could address both Deshanna and Ashavise at once.

“There is so much I need to say to you both,” she said, wiping at the tears that had formed in her eyes. She gestured for Solas to approach and he did so silently, watching the women. Deshanna looked at him with interest, but when Ashavise turned her gaze to him she let out a horrified yell and yanked her daughter away.

“Mamae?” Lyna asked, confused.

“Back, fiend!” Ashavise exclaimed. She raised her hands, her magic crackling in her palms before Lyna grabbed them.

“Mamae, what are you doing?” she cried, alarmed.

“Da’len, he Dread Wolf has your scent!” she replied, seeming terrified. She gestured angrily at Solas. “He came to me in dreams once, years ago. He tried to tempt me away from my life and my clan!” She turned her attention back to Solas and tried to summon magic into her palms again, though Lyna held them tightly. “You will _not_ take my daughter!”

“Mamae, stop!” Lyna cried, placing herself between them. “You don’t understand! Just wait!”

Ashavise cried out again, ignoring Lyna. “Why do you have my grandson?” she demanded, her magic finally fading from her palms; she would never risk harming the little boy.

“Mamae, he holds his son like any father should!” Lyna cried, exasperated and confused by her mother’s temper.

Her words made everything stop. Ashavise stared at her daughter in open-mouthed shock. Deshanna was the first to recover. “I think, da’len, that you should perhaps start at the beginning,” she said calmly, her voice betraying nothing of her thoughts. Lyna took a deep breath to try to calm herself.

“My apologies,” Solas said before Lyna could gather her thoughts. “I did not realize that you were Lyna’s mother. I remember the woman who so adamantly refused my offers. I did not know, when I approached you with my proposition, that you were bonded and with child.” His eyes slid to Lyna and a tiny smile tugged his lips, unnoticeable to anyone but her.

Ashavise made a disgusted noise. “Fen’an would have destroyed you for trying to trick me away,” she declared.

“Mamae! Don’t speak of father like that!” Lyna said, horrified.

Solas raised his eyebrows, seeming surprised. “Your father’s name is Fen’an?” he asked, and his amusement was so subtle that Lyna wasn’t sure if she was imagining it.

“Mamae,” Lyna said, rubbing her forehead in vain hope to stop the headache she could feel gathering behind her eyes, “Solas never tried to trick you into anything.” Ashavise narrowed her eyes at the name, gaze flicking to the infant he cradled. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere private,” she suggested, a note of pleading in her voice.

“Of course,” Deshanna said, leading them away to a private sitting room. She bolted the door behind them. Lyna sank onto an overstuffed couch, far more exhausted than she should have been. Solas sat next to her and put a hand on the back of her neck. His magic gently tingled along her skin, chasing away her growing headache and making her feel more alert. She smiled at him gratefully and he smiled back.

Lyna sat straight and examined the two women who were both mothers to her. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “From the beginning…”

 

* * *

 

Solas listened silently as Lyna spun their tale for her Keeper and her mother. There was a lot missing from it for the sake of time and propriety. She said nothing of their intimacy, instead focusing on the time they had spent studying and traveling together. She did her best to cast his lies and misdeeds in the gentlest light, emphasizing that they had been well-intentioned. Neither the Keeper nor Lyna’s mother looked convinced by that.

When Lyna started talking with her hands, her mother interrupted.

“Da’len, why do you have two hands?” she asked bluntly, peering at Lyna’s left restored left arm as though it would suddenly burst into flames.

Deshanna smacked the woman on the back of the head, rolling her eyes in a way that Solas recognized. “Be polite, Ashavise,” she admonished. Ashavise frowned but said nothing.

“Ancient and forgotten magicks have their uses, Mamae,” Lyna said, trying to hide her smile. “Solas took my arm to keep the Anchor from killing me but didn’t have the strength to give it back at the time.” Solas kept the guilt from his face as he thought, _I was too distracted to even think to try._ “When he came to find me again, he gave it back.”

Ashavise narrowed her eyes in his direction, but it was Deshanna who spoke. “Why did you abandon her to raise your child alone and then suddenly come looking for her?” There was no accusation in her tone despite the blunt words, but it showed in her face.

“Ara arlise, _please,”_ Lyna said, sounding like her headache was growing again. Solas sent his magic into her once more, trying to soothe her. He was confused by her choice of familial title for her clan’s Keeper. She called the woman her hearth? He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Little Solas chose that moment to start crying and Lyna groaned. “Fenedhis,” she growled, “I forgot to bring diapers!”

“Magi has its uses,” he murmured, and summoned one from their room at Sa’amal’uan. He handed it to her and she grinned at him. He then summoned the other items she would need to change the boy. She moved to a side table and set out what she needed. When Solas handed her their son, the scent that wafted from the boy’s diaper made his brows shoot up.

“Yes, da’mi, I know,” Lyna told the wailing infant gently as she wrestled him out of the soiled diaper. “Just a little more.” She spoke softly as she worked, trying to calm him, clearly not expecting him to actually quiet until she was done. He only fell silent as she secured the clean diaper on him, and then latched onto her breast as soon as she bared it for him. Lyna turned to Solas and gestured with her chin at the mess on the table. “I don’t suppose you can get rid of all this?” she asked him. He smiled and set his magic to work. The dirty diaper caught fire and then winked out of existence, the smell of burning feces making Lyna scrunch her nose, but it dissipated quickly. The rest of the items he returned to the places he’d taken them from.

“Summoning objects through space is not the easiest trick,” he told her, feeling the drain on his energy from the magic. “I hope you will not need anything else, because I am not certain that I could manage that again today.” She grinned and kissed his cheek.

“Hopefully that should be it,” she told him.

“If you’re finished over there,” Ashavise said disapprovingly, her frown stretching the lines of Mythal’s Vallaslin that branched across her forehead, “I’d like to have an answer to Deshanna’s question.”

“Yes, Mamae,” Lyna said tiredly as she sat down again. Solas settled beside her and she leaned against him, paying absolutely no attention to the matching glares it earned her. She sighed heavily as she seemed to gather her thoughts, and Solas wrapped an arm around her.

“I am what you call Somniari, and Lyna taught herself to manipulate the Fade in her dreams,” Solas said, hoping to give her a rest. She was clearly exhausted and he felt a pang of guilt for suggesting this trip so soon. The conversation was clearly taxing for her and he had not expected the hostility they had received. She smiled her thanks at him and closed her eyes while little Solas suckled. “I would watch her from a distance, sometimes. She would find me in my dreams occasionally. Even though I thought to distance myself from her in an effort to protect her, I could not stay away entirely. And these meetings in dreams only served to remind me of all the reasons why I fell in love with her. I could no longer remember why I had convinced myself to stay away. When the separation became unbearable I sought her out and discovered that I had fathered a child on her.”

“Wait,” Deshanna commanded. “You didn’t know?” Solas shook his head.

“I couldn’t tell him,” Lyna said without opening her eyes. “He left the Inquisition before I even knew I was pregnant. When I saw him again after chasing the Viddisala through the eluvians, I didn’t think telling him would do any good. I figured there was no point, that it would just hurt both of us. But the first time I held our son in my arms I realized my mistake. I kept trying to tell him after that, but choked on the words every time.”

“I was trying to avoid reasons to stay,” Solas said, picking the story back up. “I would push her from my dreams and leave hers once I was noticed. What opportunities she made for herself she could not take advantage of. Had I known, however, I would have made the journey to Kirkwall far sooner. As it was, I finally went to beg her forgiveness.”

“I didn’t grant it to him, “Lyna said, finally sitting up with a smile. Ashavise smiled, just a little, the first sign of approval he had seen. “He’s going to be working toward forgiveness for quite some time yet. Years, probably.” She grinned at him.

“I will work diligently to earn it,” he vowed in a soft voice. Her smile gentled before she forced her attention back to the others.

“But I still love the idiot,” she told them. “He’s an absolute moron sometimes, but he’s _my_ absolute moron.” He raised a brow at her and she smiled. “What?” she asked playfully. “You know I’m right.” He just shook his head, unable to deny it. She looked her mother dead in the eye and said flatly, “I’m going to marry him.” Ashavise choked and Deshanna gasped. “You and the clan are invited, naturally, once we set a date. But we are also extending an invitation to join us at Sa’amal’uan.”

“Why would we do that?” Ashavise asked, scowling. Lyna sighed.

“Mamae, you could at least _try_ to keep an open mind,” she said. “Like it or not, you’re going to be his mother, too. You’re already bound by blood through our son.” Ashavise’s face scrunched in distaste and Solas struggled to keep his face straight at the sight of the expression that was a mirror image of one he’d seen Lyna wear many times.

“Bound by blood to the Dread Wolf…” she muttered, shaking her head and scowling.

“Bound by blood to the man who is going to restore our people,” Lyna said fiercely. Both women froze, matching looks of shock on their features.

They were silent as she wove the tale of Fen’Harel for them. She was far kinder in her rendition than he would have been, giving him perhaps too much credit, but he didn’t contradict her or interrupt. His life would be much easier if these women thought the best of him, after all. She told them the truth of the Evanuris and they both seemed to struggle to accept it, though they said nothing as Lyna spoke. Ashavise rubbed agitatedly at her Vallaslin as Lyna told them what had happened to Mythal. Deshanna’s hand touched hers in horror as she learned what the marks truly meant. This news caused the only interruption to the tale.

“This is why yours is gone?” Deshanna whispered the question, tracing the golden lines in her skin. Lyna nodded.

“When Solas told me the truth, I knew I couldn’t continue to wear it,” she said. “He removed it for me.”

Deshanna’s sharp gaze fell to him. “You can remove it?” He nodded silently. “Good. The People will be told. Many will wish theirs removed, myself included.”

“Ma nuvenin,” he said, amused but not offended that she would command him. She seemed to be a woman used to getting her way and barreling through anyone who would stop her. He saw in this woman the root of Lyna’s own stubbornness and found it endearing.

“Ara arlise, you could attempt to _pretend_ that you respect Fen’Harel,” Lyna muttered.

“I take no offense,” he assured her, but she shot him a look that told him quite clearly to shut up because he was missing the point. He struggled not to smile.

Deshanna sighed heavily and ignored the brief exchange. “This is all the truth, da’len?” she asked, not as if she didn’t believe it. “All the history we have pieced together and struggled to keep alive is wrong about this?”

Lyna nodded. “Ir abelas, hahren. I have told you only the truth. The Dalish struggled to remember our past and ended up with too many pieces of the wrong side of a war. But now we have a chance to learn the entire truth and to fight to restore our people as they once were. We seek to tear down the Veil and restore Elvhenan.”

Both of them went silent, thinking. “That will cause interesting complications with the humans,” Ashavise said finally. Deshanna hummed.

“They do not even allow us to linger at a camp for very long. They will not enjoy being ousted from their lands,” the Keeper said. “They will likely fight against it. Why else would the Dalish wander still?”

“Only some of their lands will be taken from them,” Solas said, hoping to ease their concerns. “Ancient places of power will be reclaimed. All other lands will be negotiated over and a fair price given. I do not intend to simply annihilate the humans.” _Not anymore,_ he didn’t say.

“We’re offering for you and any of the clan who wish to join us,” Lyna said again. “We’re still searching for the means to achieve our goals. The easiest way was destroyed when I killed Corypheus, but we will find another way. I guarantee it.” She spoke with inspiring confidence, more than he felt, and he wanted to kiss her for it.

The two women looked at each other, seeming to confer silently in subtle facial expressions. Lyna waited patiently while Solas watched curiously. It was fairly clear that though Deshanna was Keeper, Ashavise still held plenty of power within Clan Lavellan and the respect of the Keeper. Thinking of her earlier display of magic, Solas wondered if perhaps she was First, though she was considerably older than a First would usually be. The women were barely more than a decade apart in age, it seemed, though it was difficult to tell since Ashavise shared the white blonde color of her hair with her daughter and it did not show age.

“We will discuss it with the clan,” Deshanna finally said. “How can we contact you?” Solas pulled a communication crystal out of his pocket and offered it to the woman.

“Speak my name into the crystal with the intent that I should hear, and it will activate,” he told her. “We may then converse freely.” Deshanna took the crystal carefully and examined it. Her magic flared across it and sparked a little.

“Interesting,” she murmured. “Ma serannas,” she said to him.

“I wish to join you,” Ashavise said suddenly. Lyna looked startled and Deshanna looked almost panicked, which was interesting.

“Are you only going to cause trouble, Mamae?” she asked wryly. Her mother scoffed.

“Don’t be insolent, da’len,” she said, head held high. “I would like to be near my daughter and grandson. I would also like to be a part of your plans.”

“Ashavise, would you stay to help me break the news to the clan?” Deshanna asked. Ashavise hesitated, conflict clear on her face.

“Mamae, they will need your guidance,” Lyna urged gently. “You can join us at any time. There’s no hurry.” She smiled at her mother.

“Tomorrow,” she said firmly. “I will join you two tomorrow. Where do I go?”

Tired as he was, Solas waved magic at her, implanting directions to the nearest eluvian in her mind. She gasped as her hands flew to her head. “Don’t cast at me without warning!” she snapped.

“My apologies,” Solas said, meaning it. “I did not realize that it would cause you discomfort.” Ashavise grumbled but her words were unintelligible. “If you go there, you will find sentries guarding the place,” he told her, continuing the instructions orally. “Greet them with the words, ‘Andaran atish’an. Fen’Harel enaste.’ If they respond with, ‘Amae lethalas,’ then you are in the right place. They will guide you to Sa’amal’uan and you will find us there.” Ashavise nodded, still rubbing her forehead. “Any who wish to come are welcome,” he continued, then slanted a look at Lyna, who was leaning on him tiredly but watching him expectantly. He reminded himself that he had promised to be better for her and added, “Including human and part-human spouses and children. This invitation extends beyond the clan to all the elves in the city. I ask, however, that only humans bound directly through marriage or blood to elves join us.” Deshanna nodded.

“It is gracious of you to invite them at all,” she said softly, earnestly, bowing her head to him.

“I would separate no families,” he told her, seeing the wisdom in this choice as she smiled, just a little.

“I think we should head back,” Lyna said. “I’m hungry.” He smiled at her.

“Of course, vhenan,” he said, and she smiled at the endearment.

Both women demanded hugs from Lyna and to hold little Solas before they would allow the departure. Her mother reminded her that they would see each other the following day. Then, in short order, they were mounted up and headed back toward the eluvian. The sling had been transferred to Lyna and their son dozed against her chest.

The sun was setting by the time they reached the eluvian, the sky awash in pink and orange. The horses were turned back over to the sentries, who were told to expect Ashavise the following day. Lyna was noticeably drooping as they stepped through the eluvian and Solas started screaming again. She shushed him half-heartedly.

“You seem tired, vhenan,” he said, concerned. She smiled at him, but it was tired, too.

“Well, now that you’ve met my mother you know that she’s quite exhausting,” she said. He chuckled.

“Yes, I can see how she would be,” he admitted. “I was wondering, though, why did you refer to your Keeper as ‘ara arlise?’” Lyna smile brightened.

“She’s always been my home, a second mother to me, especially after my father died,” she told him. Solas frowned curiously.

“But arlise means ‘hearth,’” he said. She grinned now.

“It also means ‘home of fire,’” she said. Suddenly her chosen endearment made much more sense.

“Ah,” he said. “So it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I HAVE UPDATED! Sorry it took so long, I've been working on a marvelous 3some AU that's just CONSUMED MY SOUL with the lovely lehavashadowsun here on AO3, known on tumblr as @thema-sal-shiral. Have you read Ménage à Trois? It's fun! We're still working on it and adding to it. It's a series of drabbles and as such is not even remotely in chronological order! It's an Arlathan/Elvhenan AU that bleeds into the events of Inquisition! I love it! We focus mainly on the relationship, on maintaining a healthy poly relationship of distinct individuals, and so far we've done pretty well at it! There's some mild BDSM and a lot of sex! But also a lot of lore and combined headcanons that I enjoy immensely! I hope you'll check it out! http://archiveofourown.org/works/11768682/chapters/26530971 
> 
> Anyway, this particular chapter I had difficulty with. There were a lot of little, tedious changes to make, things having to do mainly with how Ashavise and Deshanna act toward each other, and details to add. The whole point of part of this chapter being from Solas's perspective was to see how someone who didn't know them well reacted to their relationship to each other but the original version had very little by way of Solas's thoughts. It was frustrating... But still the main reason for the delay was that I was working on my 3some AU! Sorry not sorry! Not even a little sorry...


	11. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW  
> Image commissioned from @hansaera on tumblr

Solas felt oddly giddy as he followed Lyna up the stairs to their room. The first of many gifts should be waiting for her when they arrived he was both excited for and dreading her response to it. He knew he could not guy her trust and he did not intend to try, but any small comfort he could provide her would be gladly given. He felt a flutter in his chest as he thought of what she would look like wearing his gift, but quickly stuffed that thought deep down. It would not do to become aroused by an idea of her while she was tired and hungry and ascending the steps right in front of him. She would likely smack him for it.

Lyna sighed heavily when they reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door open, stepping inside without hesitation. Solas smiled to see it, hoping it meant that she was already more comfortable in her new home.

Without glancing at the change in the room, she went to the crib and settled her sleeping son within, the muffling spell crackling slightly as her hands passed through it. She stretched her arms above her head and rolled her head on her neck.

“Is there anywhere for me to relieve myself around here?” she asked, still sounding tired. He led to her to a discreet door near the fireplace that she looked surprised to discover. She shut herself inside their privy and he tried to push away his disappointment, casting a glance to the bed where her gift lay, unnoticed. He shook her head with a rueful smile. He’d draw her attention to it when she came back out.

When she returned, strands of her hair near her face were damp and she looked a bit more awake. She strode over to him where he leaned against one of the posts of the bed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed deeply as he enfolded her in an embrace.

“Dinner is likely ready, vhenan,” he whispered into her hair, cheek pressed against the silk he remembered so well and so fondly. She hummed in thought.

“I _am_ hungry, but I’m also _very_ comfortable right here,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest. He chuckled.

“A gift for you, vhenan,” he said, pulling away gently. “The first of many.” He drew her attention to the dress that was laid out on the bed and watched her mouth round into a soft o of surprise. She tilted her head, examining it, and ran her fingers lightly over the fabric. The dress was as white as her hair with amethysts lining the scooped neckline and dotting the braided silk that would grace her slender shoulders. The fabric was the finest silk and the flowing skirt would hug her generous hips before flowing smoothly around her legs, a slit up the right side revealing tantalizing flashes of skin. The dress was paired with a deep violet sash in velvet that would hug her waist where it curved in, resting where he had once gripped her as she lay beneath him. There were no shoes since he knew how much she hated them and the dress was in a style reminiscent of the fashions of Arlathan, when shoes had been all but unknown. There were, however, silver ribbons meant to be laced up her calves, similar to the way Dalish armor wrapped around the legs.

“This is beautiful!” she exclaimed, finally finding her voice. She grinned at him. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“I am pleased you think so,” he told her, letting her see his pleasure and relief on his face. She turned her gaze back to the dress, her cheeks slightly pink.

“I don’t know how to put it on,” she murmured, touching the silver ribbons with a frown. Solas chuckled.

“Allow me to assist,” he said with a gallant bow that had her grinning again. He reached for her and unwrapped the plain sash she wore around her simple dress. He had chosen this gift first because it was a fairly simple gown that was easy enough to rework in time for her to wear it and because it was similar to her own clothing preferences. He hoped that she would find it to her liking and that it would help ease her into the opulence he intended to shower upon her.

He kissed her shoulder as he slipped the straps of her dress down, gently brushing her hair out the way. She tilted her head, exposing her neck to him with a soft sigh, and he rewarded her by lightly scraping his teeth against her pulse point. She gasped quietly and leaned back against him. The familiar heat of her body and sound of her pleasure was almost enough to make him suggest that they skip dinner entirely and move straight to other activities that he hoped she would allow him that night. He heard her stomach rumble as he had thought the thought and he dismissed his heated notions at once. She was hungry and that was more important; he had to take care of her before himself if he was to be worthy of her.

With that thought in mind, he finished stripping her of her dress. He cast it aside carelessly for the moment and tried not to let his eyes linger on her bare flesh as he reached past her to snatch her new dress off the bed. She wore no breast band, likely to allow their son easier access to his meals, and her smallclothes were heart-wrenchingly small and tight, hugging the generous curves of her ass and revealing as much as they covered. He bit his lip hard and swallowed his pleasured groan at the sight. Her breasts, heavy with mother’s milk, were round and high, larger than when he’d last seen them bare in deference to the nourishment they carried. Her nipples were a pleasing pink, just a little chapped from their son’s earlier meal, but she had done much to take care of them while breast feeding. He had to struggle not to reach out and brush his fingers against them, healing the dry skin and feeling them tighten deliciously under his touch. Her belly had a slight pooch, not yet as firm and strong as it had been before her pregnancy though clearly she had been working toward it. A few stretch marks reached up from her groin, chronicling the growth of their son within her, and for some reason he found that attractive enough to nearly bring him to his knees. He hadn’t known he would find the idea of her motherhood, specifically her motherhood to _his_ child, so arousing, but there he was counting all the ways that she had been marked by it and adoring each and every one. He couldn’t say he was disappointed by the development.

“Lift your arms,” he whispered to her, unable to keep his voice from cracking just a little. She smirked and complied, clearly reading all his thoughts on his face. She likely had also noticed the swelling bulge in his pants. He slipped the dress over her head and settled it gently over her body. He took care that it lay smoothly across her waist, feeling the softness of her baby weight and nearly trembling as he did. He fussed with the neckline and straps longer than was necessary for the excuse to brush his fingers over her soft skin and the firm tops of her breasts. She merely watched, something hungry lurking behind her eyes. Before he got himself into trouble or simply came in his trews, he grabbed the sash and wound it around her, the motion allowing him to bring himself close enough to take a deep breath of the scent of her hair. She smelled of roses, clean water, and talcum powder, and he found it utterly intoxicating. She smelled like the sensual lover he had always desired and the mother she had become. He carefully tied the sash and allowed the ends to drape across her left hip to sway over her thigh.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Sit,” he whispered, his voice sounding strained and foreign to his own ears. She wore a soft smile as she complied. He took the silver ribbons and dropped to one knee before her. He braced her foot on his raised knee and began to wrap the ribbon. It hooked under her heel to keep itself from riding up then twisted and braided up her leg over the swell of her calf to end just below her knee. He kissed the sweet flesh just above where he tied the ribbon off and tucked the ends in and felt her shiver before he turned his attention to her other foot. He wound the ribbon slowly, brushing his fingers across her skin and watching as gooseflesh rose beneath his touch. He kissed her knee as he finished, just as he had with her other leg, and her hand moved to the back of his head, fingertips raking gently across his scalp. He smiled up at her, not raising his head, letting his breath ghost over her thigh and under her skirt, bunched near her hips to give him access. She was watching, eyes wide and hungry, her breaths quick and unsteady. She opened her mouth to speak right as bells, low and sweet, rand out and sang in the air. She frowned and he groaned in disappointment.

“What do the bells signify?” she asked, tilting her head at the setting sun as if it held the answers.

Solas sighed, standing. He moved to his wardrobe and quickly stripped. “They call everyone to dinner,” he said, struggling to keep his tone light and not betray the true depth of his arousal from the simple act of dressing her. “We’d best hurry or small children with impossibly large appetites will scarf all the food down.” Lyna giggled. He chose his clothing carelessly, impatient, but still managed to grab something that would complement Lyna’s radiance. The nearly black silver of the silk shirt and trousers he pulled on would make her glow if she stood near him. He fastened his belt hastily, trying to stifle his agitation and shove away his arousal.

Her slender arms slipped around him and pushed his hands away from the belt, finishing the task of fastening it for him, then merely embracing him. He held still in her grasp, terrified she would pull away if he moved. She sighed against him, rubbing her face slowly against his back, between his shoulder blades, and her warmth threatened to melt him where he stood.

“We have a very long time to fulfil our hunger, ma vhenan,” she whispered, her words brushing across his skin like a caress. “For now, I think it would be best if we filled out bellies with food before I fill my body with you.” His breath hitched, a shudder running through him, and she laughed softly. The sweet sound made him turn in her embrace and press his lips to hers. She sighed and opened for him, her tongue running across his lips gently. He moved to devour her, to take that sweet little tongue into his mouth and bit her sinful lips, but she pulled away before he could. He realized as he blinked and struggled to hold back his desire for her that if she had not pulled away then he would have torn her beautiful new dress off her body and taken her right then. Her suggestive smile told him that she knew it, too, and it was only her control that kept them clothed. She took his hand and kissed the back.

“Is there someone who can watch da’mi, or should we bring him with us?” she asked as he caressed her face. “I would hate to wake him, but I won’t leave him alone.”

“Ah,” he said, blinking, trying to focus on anything beside her smooth, warm cheek. He picked up his communication crystal from where it lay on the floor with his clothes. A few whispered words had a nursemaid hurrying to watch their son. Lyna smiled at him and towed him from the room.

The great hall was filled with people. Many were already seated at the many tables scattered around the room and eating. Some had settled onto cushions on the floor. A number of people were still lingering by the tables of food, picking through the selections. Those few who noticed their entrance turned, eyes wide at Lyna’s presence, then offered shallow bows before turning back to their meal. Lyna paused, surveying the scene, then towed him to the nearest table of food.

“Ooh,” she cooed, rushing for a large pot that steamed gently. She stuck her face over it and inhaled deeply, smiling with her eyes closed. “Grid or oin,” she groaned, happily filling a wide, shallow bowl with the thick stew.

“I had no idea you had a taste for rabbit,” Solas observed, grabbing a bowl for himself.

“Aval’bradh,” she murmured happily, dunking a large piece of the rich, hearty bread in her stew and not bothering to answer him. She grabbed two goblets of a sweet red wine and pressed one into his hand, juggling her food until she held her bowl of stew and her wine in the same hand. Then she tugged on him, forcing him to follow her.

She surprised him by leading him to the throne and shoving him down on it. He had not sat there since Elvhenan was still alive and he was not entirely comfortable with it. He raised his eyebrows at her as he shifted in the seat, both loving and hating the way it formed to his body, still so clearly belonging to him. He gasped slightly when she seated herself across his lap, one leg thrown over the arm of the throne and the other resting on his knee. He clenched his teeth as she wiggled, getting comfortable, and in the process pressed her hip into his flagging erection. She was so incredibly beautiful as she propped herself on the arm of the throne and leaned into his chest. The dress graced her form perfectly, as he’d hoped it would. The silk clung to her curves, the amethysts reflecting little prisms of candlelight upon her face. The slit up her leg now revealed most of her right leg and she brushed it against him as she settled it on the arm of the throne. Her skirt fell in billowing waves around her, covering his legs.

She finally settled, seeming pleased with herself, and scooped up her stew with the aval’bradh, her wine goblet carefully tucked between her legs to hold it steady. He balanced his own goblet on the arm of the throne and tried to eat his meal casually, but her every breath moved her just enough that she rubbed her hip lightly against his now-straining erection, which it made it very difficult to think.

She scarfed down her food quickly and drained her wineglass, then settled against his chest with a happy sigh, tucking her head under his chin. Nearly everyone in the room was peeking curiously at them and it seemed that she had decided not to pay any attention to it. He saw her one-time clan mate, Alifalon, smiling when she glanced their way.

As Solas finished his meal, musicians came into the hall with their instruments, greeted by cheers and applause. Tables were shifted until there was a large clear space in the middle of the room and Solas grinned as he suddenly got a terrible, wonderful idea. She would probably hate him for it, but he couldn’t resist.

He shifted her a little to make sure she was awake and she shifted back, making him stifle a groan as she pressed into his erection. She grinned at him and he knew she was doing it on purpose. So he narrowed his eyes and let her see that he was stalking her, mischief on his mind.

 

* * *

 

Lyna had the distinct impression that she was being hunted, despite the fact that the hunter currently had her cradled in his lap. That look in Solas’s eyes, dark and mysterious and mischievous, likely did not bode well for her despite the thrill it sent down her spine. When he stood suddenly, taking her with him and tossing their dishes carelessly onto the throne, she knew he had plans for her.

She’d watched the musicians set up and prepare to play, watched the center of the room clear for dancing. Now her eyes widened as Solas wrapped her hand over his arm and led her to the cleared area as the first song began.

“Solas, I don’t-“ He silenced her protests with his lips and dragged her body close as the first notes rang sweetly through the air.

The dance began simply, their steps turning them in slow circles, and Lyna felt herself relaxing in Solas’s arms. As the music picked up and reedy flutes joined the strings, he began sweeping her around, one hand at her waist and the other pressed flat against hers. She clutched his shoulder, trying to keep up, to learn the dance as he led her through steps she didn’t know. He was smiling, holding her close, tight against his body as he swept her across the floor.

Suddenly, as drums joined the song, his hands moved to her waist and he lifted her up. She clutched his shoulders tight and cried out in surprise, laughing as he swung her around before lowering her to her feet and sweeping her back into the dance. His smile was radiant, happier than she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t help but grin back.

A few turns later, he dipped her back and let her fly a short distance, his strong arms all that kept her from falling. She laughed, breathless, as he righted her. She hardly noticed that no one else was dancing, that all eyes were on them. It didn’t matter. She had this, she had _him,_ and that was all she cared about.

Normally, she disliked dancing. She had danced at Halamshiral with several gold diggers who wanted into the Inquisition’s bed via the space between her legs and she had danced with Duchess Florianne. She had danced with her clan as a child, long ago, but mostly stopped after her father passed. This dance was nothing like anything she’d ever experienced before. At the Winter Palace, she’d been moved through human dances, straight-backed, rigid, and full of lies. With her clan, few of the children’s dances had been choreographed. They were more an expression of emotion and familial adoration and togetherness than anything else, a lively chaos around the fires to the beat of a few drums and lutes.

This dance with Solas was entirely different. This was sensual, as sexual as it was chaste, a harmony of contradictions. One moment, he pressed his body against hers and bent her to him, willing her to melt against him. The next, he held her at arm’s length, barely touching her. He swept her up into his arms and let her fly above him, then brought her down low until only his strength held her beneath him and he swept her across the floor. It was exhilarating and terrifying and wonderful and altogether foreign. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know the steps because as the dance went on her feet touched the ground less and less.

Solas grinned, sweat beading on his temples, happiness radiating off of him, and he was more beautiful to her in that moment than he ever had been, his face freed from its usual lines of stress and deep thought and the laugh lines that had always existed around his mouth and eyes deepened by his joy. He swept her across the dance floor, utterly focused on her, as if she and this dance were all that existed, and she melted for him. In that moment, he was hers and hers alone. And in that moment, she belonged to him, as well. That was all she’d ever wanted, that missing piece that had left her hollow and aching for him before, when she didn’t know the truth. He held himself back in those days and she’d known it, known that she was separated from him. And it had hurt her. That reserve was gone now, melted away, and he was utterly naked before her. Everything he was and ever had been was laid bare for her, just waiting to be seen and touched and kissed and loved. And she did love him. Her heart ached with feeling as he swept her up above his head again, her skirt billowing out around her legs. The dark silk of his shirt was stained darker with sweat, the quick movements of the dance making him pant his breaths. The tips of his ears and edges of his cheeks were turning red with exertion and she wanted to kiss the blushing color. She wanted to dominate him, to surrender to him. She wanted to feel his passion as she showed him hers. She wanted him with a hunger she had never experienced and it stole her breath as she trusted his arms to carry her and never falter through this dance.

The song rose into a crescendo and he spun her quickly, holding one hand above her and twirling her so fast that it made her dizzy. When she would have fallen he clutched her to him, their bodies meeting as the last note of the song rang out.

For a sweet moment, there was silence but for their panting breaths, nothing existing but the two of them and the emotions between them. He smiled into her startled face and she looked at him as though seeing him for the very first time. He was so open to her, like never before, all the clouds over his face cleared away for this one moment. She treasured it, memorizing everything about his face all over again and committing it to memory.

And then the hall erupted into applause and cheers and Lyna remembered that they weren’t alone. Loud whistles pierced the air, praises for their performance called loudly. Solas laughed, standing straight and setting her on her feet as someone approached. The elven woman handed both of them cool glasses of water.

“Ma serannas,” Lyna said gratefully before downing the water, sighing with relief as her dry throat was wetted. Solas followed suit, chugging the entire glass of water without even stopping to breathe, his arm still wrapped around her waist, refusing to release his grip.

“What is your name, my lady?” the woman asked as she took the empty glasses, her light brown eyes bright with joy and curiosity. Others heard her question and repeated it, loudly, begging to know what she was called. It startled her and she looked around the room ad saw joy there, the people grinning, happy and curious. They saw that she was Fen’Harel’s lover and they accepted that and wished to honor her. It was a little overwhelming.

Solas held up a hand and the room slowly quieted. He raised a brow at her, letting her choose, and she straightened her spine as she took his hand in hers and held it tightly. She looked each and every person there in the eye, making a connection and assessing them as they assessed her. They were from all walks of life. She saw elders who were still seated or struggled to stand, propped up by loved one. She saw babies as young as her own son and children clinging to their parents. Some were healthy, vibrant, glowing with life. Some were still fighting signs of poverty, their bones showing starkly through their skin. Many bore scars and the marks of a hard life. Some wore Vallaslin and many did not, but she didn’t think, somehow, that all of those without it were from the city. She thought that some, like her, had asked for it to be removed.

“I am Lyna,” she told them, her voice ringing out, loud and pure, through the hall. The word spread through the room like a whisper, a physical thing given weight and presence by their awe. “Once, I was called Inquisitor, but no longer.” Louder whispers flowed through the room, confusion and surprise. She waited for them to die down before continuing. “Now I am as you are,” she said simply. “I am Elvhen, and I will see our people restored. I will fight for each and every one of you to have the life you deserve and the freedom to choose your own path.” The crowd broke into cheers and applause and they all converged on her. They wanted to speak to her, to see her, to tell her their names. She withstood it patiently, returning their greetings, offering blessings to the children, trying not to be overwhelmed by it all. And all the while Solas watched her silently, his gaze hungry and possessive and proud. When the crowd finally began to disperse, his hands found her waist and he stepped close behind her.

“Forgive my selfishness,” he said to those who still lingered nearby, “but I am stealing her away now.” He pressed a kiss to her neck and she smiled slightly as she felt her cheeks heat, knowing where they would go next. Appreciative chuckles followed them as he led her behind the throne and into the stairwell.

She went ahead of him, very conscious of the heat of him at her back. He was close, so close, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck. He was stalking her and in that moment she felt very much like the halla the rumors had named her. He kept his hands to himself as they climbed the stairs, likely tucked behind his back as they so often were, and that was almost worse than if he’d been touching her. Anxiety prickled her skin, nerves about being together so intimately again after so long, after so much, when her body was so different than it had been made her want to speed her steps, but she resisted. She ascended calmly at a sedate pace, refusing to let his game get to her as he continued to stalk her.

When they entered their room, a term that would take some getting used to, the nursemaid looked up. A small woman, she looked to have human blood in her with her small, round ears despite how fine-boned she was. Her dark hair was swept over one shoulder and she gathered up the basket of sewing beside her.

“He has a fresh diaper and seems ready to settle into sleep,” she told them before bowing low and vanishing through a door on the other side of the room. Lyna went to check on her son.

He was breathing deeply, his mouth open, and she could tell he would remain asleep for hours yet. She tucked his blankets more firmly around him and gave him a gentle kiss, careful not to rouse him.

When she turned, Solas was eyeing her, a ravenous look on his face as his gaze raked up her body, nearly physical in its intensity. She went to him, a nervous flutter in her stomach that likely showed on her face. He reached for her and pulled her close, kissing her fiercely. She wrapped her arms around him and melted into his touch.

 _This is what I was missing,_ she thought as his hands gently unwound the sash around her waist and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, mouth opening beneath his lips. _This is what I need._

He grasped her dress and slowly slid it up her body, his hands gathering the silk and sliding it along her sides before he pulled it off and left her in only her smalls and leg wraps. Her smalls were quickly snatched from her, so fast that she barely registered the sensation of the fabric ripping as he tore it from her. His gaze searched her hungrily, a low growl resounding in his chest. He left her leg wraps in place as he devoured her with his eyes. She tugged at his shirt, running her fingers over the subtle embroidery on the back, trying to steady her shaking hands as she removed it. She yanked at his trousers, fumbling as her breath came faster, but his hands steadied hers.

“Do nothing that you do not desire,” he whispered, his voice low and earnest. She looked up at him and saw his gentle understanding. She took a shaking breath.

“My body is not the same as it was when we were last… intimate,” she reminded him, feeling somewhat silly as she struggled against the urge to cover her lower belly. She still held weight from their son despite daily exercise and ragged red stretch marks marred her skin. She didn’t really know how she was different within, but she knew that she had to be after pushing an entire person out.

When she looked away, Solas cupped her face in his hands and tilted her gaze up to his. In his face she saw the most incredible awe. “You are _beautiful,”_ he whispered intently. “Your body could not arouse me more. All these little changes, all the little ways that your body shows signs of our son’s existence arouse me more than I ever thought possible.” He smiled at her and it held heat and wonder both. “It would seem that I am a man made weak by the very idea of family. And to see upon your already exquisite form the signs of a family we have made…” He shivered hard as he trailed off and from the corner of her eye she saw his manhood grow even harder within his trousers. He took a shaking breath and pressed his lips to hers gently. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed there, his lips tickling hers as they moved, and she shivered in response.

“Yes,” she told him, though she wasn’t sure what question she was answering. She tore at the laces of his trousers with impatient but steady fingers and freed him from them, yanking down his smallclothes and earning a sharp hiss as his cock was freed from the cloth suddenly.

Naked before her, he gripped her upper arms and pushed her back towards the bed. They tumbled into it together, gasping, laughing, and he raised himself above her. He took her lips, but this wasn’t what she needed. She sat up and pushed hard at his shoulder until he lay flat on his back. She grinned and straddled his hips, smiling down into his shocked expression.

“Much better,” she murmured, leaning down for a kiss. He let her, then tried to flip her over. She pressed her hand against his chest and held him down. “No,” she told him, holding him as he tried again to rise, confusion spreading across his features. “You are _mine_ tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry my Solas pregnancy kink headcanon out of my cold, dead hands! His biggest fear is dying alone, I mean, OBVIOUSLY he has a pregnancy kink!
> 
> It's really important to me that I show that Lyna is a mother. I realized that too many works of fiction (including the original version of this) gloss over what happens to a woman when she has a baby, even a very fit and active woman like Lyna. I don't like that. So she's got stretch marks and baby fat and her boobs are different and Solas is very turned on by it!
> 
> Oh, no, smut cliffhanger! ;) Next chapter coming (heh) soon! Never fear, there is always more smut!


	12. Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highly NSFW!

Solas took a shaking breath, her words making arousal pound through his blood. He tried again to rise, to flip her, to cradle his hips between her thighs, but she wouldn’t let him. Didn’t she understand? He was always hers. He always would be hers. He always had been hers.

She continued to hold him down and bent to gently kiss his neck. “We do this my way for now,” she whispered against his skin and he shivered. She licked the column of his neck and his breath hissed through his teeth, head falling back as his struggles ceased. He couldn’t help but surrender to her. If this was what she needed, he would give it to her. Anything for her.

His hands found her hips hovering so tantalizingly close to his throbbing cock. He pressed his fingers into her flesh, kneading, and she moaned. She grazed his neck with her teeth and rocked her hips down slightly, grazing the tip of him against her glorious heat. He cried out and lifted up, trying to find that connection and slide home, but she was already gone and she wouldn’t let him chase that perfect heat.

She nibbled along his neck, gently licking the tender skin behind his ear, and he moaned her name. She was intoxicating, teasing him so perfectly, her teeth nipping the tip of his ear and then his collarbone and then pressing against the pounding of his pulse as she rocked herself against him carefully. Her slick heat covered the tip of him but she never let him thrust inside. She ran her slit over him, teasing, tantalizingly close, but denied him until he was moaning and thrusting his hips helplessly beneath her, his fingers digging into her hips as his hands clenched and released. She drove him nearly mindless with a few teasing touches.

When she reached a hand between their bodies and gripped him tight, a cry escaped him. She pulled back a little, a fierce heat in her gaze, and he clenched the supple firmness of her ass, pleading silently for her to take him.

“You are mine,” she whispered, stroking him gently, a barely-there touch of her palm. “Say it.”

“I am yours,” he groaned without hesitation. It was true, so deliciously true, and he would have said anything, done anything she asked if only she would stay with him. She shivered, then rewarded him by squeezing the head of his cock gently and pressing it against her folds. Her flesh was hot, already slick, and the feel of it made him moan helplessly as lightning traveled up his spine. “I am yours,” he told her again for the pleasure of feeling her shiver. She rocked against him, gasping as she rubbed him against her clit. His eyes stayed on her face, watching as pleasure softened her features. “I am yours.” She trembled and twirled her hips, moaning, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough.

He reached around behind her and slid a finger into her slick heat. She gasped and jerked, eyes widening, and he nearly slid home right then before she moved away again. He pressed a second finger inside and head fell forward as she groaned against his chest.

“And you are mine,” he growled, thrusting his fingers into her dripping wetness and shifting his hips to grind his shaft against her clit. She moaned, a low, desperate sound. Her hand on him kept him from sliding into her in one quick thrust, an infuriating tease of sensation as her juices dripped down his fingers, but she wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

“You are _mine,”_ he growled at her ear, then bit her. The sensitive tip of her ear twitched beneath the press of his teeth and she gave a sharp cry. “Say it. Tell me. Dirtha.” He could feel his senses leaving him as she remained silent, teasing his cock against her clit to torture them both. But still she did not give in.

 

* * *

 

Lyna was nearly mindless as his fingers pressed into her from behind and the tip of him rubbed so perfectly against her clit. The sensations were intense and she could feel that she was not merely wet for him; her juices dripped down his knuckles and he groaned when he felt it. The power was heady, having the Dread Wolf at her mercy as she teased them both to a fever pitch. She could find her release just like this, with him straining beneath her and begging for her.

 _“Say it, Lyna!”_ he demanded, increasing his pace and trying to rock his hips out of her grasp to thrust into her core. She could feel how desperate he was, could feel the beads of precum that lubricated her clit for this torturous rubbing. But she held him still, wouldn’t give him what he begged for. Not yet.

Her forehead was pressed against his chest, waves of pleasure too strong to allow her to hold her head up, her pale hair trailing across his chest and sticking to the sweat that already beaded there. One hand braced her weight against his shoulder, the other kept him pressed against her clit instead of inside her. Her legs, still wrapped in those silver ribbons, were pressed against his hips, feet hooked over his thighs to steal his leverage to thrust. He held her ass and kneaded the muscle with the hand that wasn’t inside of her, straining against her hold on him.

When she remained silent, refusing to give him what he wanted, he slipped a third finger into her and thrust strongly. The shock of it, so full, so much, made her throw her head back on a sharp cry. Then he withdrew his hand entirely and she shivered as her body clenching around nothing. She felt so empty without him there, the lack almost painful. She met his gaze and his face was wild, hungry, mindless with lust, and that was just perfect.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely, sounding as though he barely knew what he was asking. He begged her, a single word asking her for everything and nothing. “Sathan,” he whispered over and over as she watched him, until she silenced him with a kiss.

“I am yours,” she vowed, her voice low and husky with desire. Then she finally lined him up at her entrance and let him slide inside, finally giving him what he wanted, what they both needed. They both screamed as she lowered her hips slowly and he filled her so perfectly, and she wanted to weep at the wonderful joining, the feeling of connection that she had missed so much. She had needed this.

Her body struggled to stretch to accept him, unaccustomed to the intrusion, and he gave her time while they both panted heavily. Sweat trickled slowly between her breasts and he leaned up to lick it away, making her shiver.

When she was ready, she withdrew a little and a perfect whimper escaped him. “I am yours,” she whispered again, and lowered herself until he was hilt-deep inside her. It wrenched a startled cry from him as his finger clenched on her ass. “You are mine,” she reminded him, rising up and then snapping her hips down.

He gripped her hips, one hand still wet from its activities within her, and when next she drew up, he thrust his hips up to meet her on the down stroke. They both cried out and his eyes slid closed as he began to thrust beneath her, bouncing her on his hips.

She grabbed his chin roughly and his eyes few open. “Look at me, vhenan’ara,” she said between panting breaths. “Watch me as I take you, as I make you mine.” She snapped her hips down and he grunted, gritting his teeth against the sensation.

“Yours,” he whispered desperately. “I am yours.” She rewarded him by tilting her hips, changing the angle, and he gasped for her.

And then it wasn’t enough for him. He sat up beneath her, the angle changing again and making her groan. He clutched her to him, one hand on the small of her back and the other clenching her hip, and thrust beneath her. She gasped and rolled her hips, held tenderly in his arms. He thrust and she rolled, their eyes locked. The intimacy was intense, like nothing she had ever felt, as she watched his pupils dilate, their dark depths nearly swallowing the vibrant blue of his irises. She felt magic, raw and undiluted, gather in his form until his body was thrumming with it and then so was hers. It was like a low growl, felt more than heard, and it shivered through her, both hot and cold at once.

She could feel her peak approaching, could feel him tremble beneath her as his neared as well. He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his rhythm, to keep his eyes open and locked with hers, and let loose a low moan as he thrust and found just the right spot. She screamed, her head momentarily falling back before she met his eyes again, hers wide and shocked, his pleased above his smile. The crown of him caught against that sensitive part deep inside her and she clenched around him. He gnashed his teeth in response, his hands tightening on her skin.

“You are _mine,”_ he growled, thrusting again. And again. And again. Each time he pressed against that perfect spot wound her tighter, brought her closer, until she couldn’t maintain eye contact anymore and her head fell back. He took the opportunity to graze his teeth over her throat and she moaned breathlessly. Once she started she didn’t stop, her moans building in volume as he thrust.

“And I am yours,” he whispered beneath her ear right before the tide of pleasure swept her up. His words rang in her ears over her own cries. Her nails dug into his flesh, her sheath clenching tight around him, all her muscles seizing up as orgasm swept her away. He continued to thrust, denying his own finish, drawing out her pleasure. He kept her on the razor’s edge of pleasure, somewhere between agony and bliss, until she was crying with it as her body wept.

“Solas!” she screamed, desperate for more, desperate for it to end. “Ah, Fen’Harel, please!” He groaned loudly as she cried his other name, the one he’d kept hidden from her for so long. “Please, vhenan, finish it! I need… Ah, I need to feel you!”

And with that he let her. His cries joined her screams and it felt as if they would shake the room apart with the power of their voices. Hot, pulsing jets poured into her and he buried his face against her neck, snarling into her flesh. She held him close, fingertips digging into his shoulders as her orgasm finally began to slow. Her body shuddered, wracked with tremors, and he shook with her.

Slowly, gently, he lowered them both until she was cradled against his chest as he lay back against the bed. Their breathing was ragged as they panted together. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her chest as his hands traced lazy patterns on her back. They were both trembling, shudders rippling through them as they struggled to catch their breath.

After a few minutes, Solas gently lifted her off him, startling a cry from her as their bodies parted. She curled herself against his side, trying to slow her shaking. He pressed lazy kisses against her sweat soaked hair as he held her close, and she ignored the sticky warmth between her legs, content to lie within his embrace.

“You are incredible,” he finally whispered. “I never…” He stopped and swallowed hard. “I have never experienced anything quite like it.” She laughed breathlessly.

“Not bad for my second time, hmm?” she asked him playfully. He tightened his arms around her and they fell back into comfortable silence for a short time.

“Why have you never known another?” he asked her quietly. She sighed softly against his skin, the golden glow of pleasure fading.

“I was twenty-six when I was sent to the Conclave,” she told him. “I spent thirteen years as a marked adult in my clan. From the moment when the ritual that bestowed my Vallaslin was complete, I was considered eligible.” She lifted her head and rested her chin on her hands, crossed over his chest, to look at him. “But that didn’t mean I was desired.” He frowned and she smiled a little. “I was intimidating, the youngest hunter to receive my Vallaslin in living memory, and in Clan Lavellan’s entire history. I’d more than earned it. I’d been wielding a bow since I was coordinated enough to put an arrow to the string. My father would take me hunting with him, but only because I begged. He taught me to be silent, to still myself until I was part of the forest, no different from any tree or rock or bush. And I loved it. After my father died, I still spent most of my time in the forest because it was the only place I could still feel close to him. I was providing meat for my clan when I was nine years old, successfully hunting on my own. It was unheard of.”

“You have never failed to be surprising, it seems,” he murmured with a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear gently. She smiled at him.

“When we camped in the plains, my mother and I would race,” Lyna told him. “We would sprint through the grasses, laughing until we were dizzy.” She grinned at the memory. “Even though she missed my father horribly once he was gone, she was always there for me, always ready to race through the plains. Once we’d exhausted ourselves, we’d make our way slowly back to camp, gathering herbs and berries as we went, resting often. I was twelve the first time I outran her. She was so proud of me!

“But I didn’t spend much time with the clan. They were my family and I loved them, but they were a little afraid of me, the Fade-touched prodigy. I didn’t mind, really. It meant I had no reason not to wander the forests and run through the plains. The few dalliances I did engage in once I got my Vallaslin I bored of quickly. They always wanted to try to tame me, to get me to settle and stay within the camp unless I was hunting. I didn’t want to settle.” She grinned at him and cupped his cheek in her hand. “That’s part of why I love you,” she told him, and he smiled in return. “You never wanted to tame me.”

“No,” he replied softly. “I never did. And I never will. The look of determined joy on your face as you leapt onto a dragon’s neck, just behind its head, and shot arrows directly into its brain was so exquisitely beautiful to me. It terrified me to see you run directly at the beast, and I was still shaking with fright when you rolled off of it as it thrashed in its death throes. I remember I yelled at you, told you not to be so reckless, and you just laughed. You were covered in ichor, your armor ripped by its claws, and you were laughing at my concern.” He grinned. “It was as beautiful as it was terrifying. Even though at times you frighten me, I’d never want you to change or give up that wild part of yourself.” She giggled.

“I wasn’t laughing at your concern,” she confided. “I was laughing because it was so fun! I felt like I could do anything in that moment, like I could have gathered the stars to me and they would have gladly come. I honestly didn’t even hear what you said.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” he said wryly, “considering how often you disregarded my concerns.” She laughed and he joined her then brought her lips to his.

The kiss was heated, passionate even in the wake of such exhausting pleasure, and she found herself wanting more. But her body was overtaxed and she wanted to scream with frustration when she shifted her legs and her hips protested the movement loudly. He didn’t release her lips as his hands brushed across her skin and magic lit his touch. It shivered through her and her aches melted away. She sighed with relief as sore muscles relaxed and readied for more.

He rolled her beneath him and she didn’t fight it. She was more than ready for him and she wanted him above her. She wanted him any way she could have him. He wanted her in return. She was his and he was hers and they were going to prove it yet again. As he wrung pleasured cries and desperate pleas from her lips and the moons cast their silver glow on them, Lyna had never been more certain of her path in life. This was where she belonged.

 

* * *

 

Dawn was casting a gentle pink glow upon them by the time they finally felt satisfied. They had been interrupted by their son three times in the night and Solas had watched patiently as Lyna fed their son. She’d shown him how to change his diaper and he’d done so the last time they’d been interrupted.

Solas had cast healing magic upon them both several times during the night to allow them to continue. As she learned what pleased him the most, he began to cast raw magic through the room with each climax. She would grin to see the little sparks of light above them and feel the quiet thrumming of his power as he lost control under her touch.

Finally, however, they were sated. They had long ago lost count of how many rounds they’d engaged in, but it didn’t matter anyway. They lay together in their bed, burled into each other, exhaustion in their limbs. Lyna trailed her hands lightly along Solas’s chest as his fingers traced patterns on her back. She was glowing, happier than she could remember ever being. She had her lover, the one man who could convince her to stay still and settle. She had her son, giggling to himself in his crib, trying to teach himself to crawl. She had a chance to make Thedas a better place for her people. She even had both of her hands!

“Ah, fenedhis!” Solas suddenly exclaimed, his hand moving to his forehead.

“What is it?” Lyna asked, startled out of her quasi sleep. He just groaned. She laughed lightly and kissed his cheek. “Tell me, love.”

He looked at her, smiling wryly. “I forgot again,” he told her. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to clarify. He sighed. “The first time we were together, I was so consumed by you that it never occurred to me to remember to cast a contraception spell.”

“There’s a spell for that?” she asked, surprised. Her clan mates had always used tinctures.

He grinned. “There is a spell for nearly everything, if you know where to look,” he told her. “With your permission, I will cast it.” She nodded easily.

“I am definitely not ready to go through pregnancy again,” she said, grinning. “Maybe in a few more years.” He smiled in return and placed his hand gently on her belly. She felt his power tingle through her and then a subtle feeling of movement, almost like the first time she’d felt her son move within her. Then heat poured through her core, startling her. She gasped, but it was over as quickly as it began.

“My apologies,” he murmured. “If I had remembered to do that before we started, I would not have needed to burn away my seed.” She giggled.

“It was unexpected, that’s all,” she told him. He smiled.

“I have another gift for you,” he said, and she raised a brow.

“Oh? Another gown?” she asked. He shook his head, still smiling softly. He slid out of bed and held out a hand to her, which she took as she stood as well. Still completely naked, he led her towards the door that would take them to the throne room, but instead of opening that door he opened one that she had not noticed before. There seemed to be a lot of doors in their room that she didn’t notice until he drew her attention to them. It made her feel oddly blind. The stairs that were revealed were much narrower than those that went to the throne room and she thought she heard water splashing somewhere below them.

“Come,” he urged as he started down the stairs.

“Don’t we need clothing or something?” she asked, following. He just chuckled.

There was only one flight of stairs and at the bottom Lyna gasped in wonder and delight. The room that was revealed held what looked like a large fountain, the floor and walls tiled a gentle green. The ceiling was a mural to reflect the sky just before dawn, stars lit by the sun’s first rays, though the constellations were not ones she knew. Dominating the space was a large pool of gently steaming water, a small waterfall on the wall across from them to keep the pool from being stagnant. Nearby, towels were hung before a brazier to warm them and a small table held various soaps and oils to be applied to the skin and hair. It was the most luxurious bathing room she had ever seen. Even at Skyhold, she’d bathed in a tub dragged to her quarters. With her clan, she’d dunked herself in the nearest river. This was simply incredible, absolutely beautiful, and she knew it would be a struggle for her not to spend all day there.

“Do you like it?” Solas asked, watching her.

“How could I not?” she whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled, the warm sound making her smile.

“Come, then. I seem to have left you in need of a bath.” That made her laugh as she eyed him up and down.

“You’re not doing much better yourself,” she told him, eyeing the salt of his sweat and his very messy crotch. He chuckled, then turned away to submerge himself in the water. It was deep enough to cover him almost to his chest and he sighed as he sank down in the warm water.

Lyna went to the table to select soap and body oil. As she browsed, reading the labels, she was surprised to find rose oil among the selection. She snagged it with a grin as well as a lavender-scented soap and placed them beside the pool as she entered. She dunked her head under, wetting her hair.

“I didn’t take you for one to use rose oil and lavender,” she said to Solas as she surfaced. He smiled softly.

“I prefer patchouli or bergamot,” he told her. “But you always smell like roses.” She waded over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her close, smiling down at her.

“And you noticed that and had some rose oil brought up?” she asked, though she knew the answer. He just smiled, so she kissed him thoroughly before moving away to wash.

After thoroughly scrubbing herself and washing her hair, she went to grab the rose oil to add some to her hair, but it wasn’t where she’d left it. She raised an eyebrow at Solas, who was holding the little jar. She grabbed for it but he moved it out of her reach, making her jump awkwardly after it. She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms.

“I was going to use that,” she told him. He moved nearer, a smirk tugging his lips.

“Allow me,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the side of her head. She sighed dramatically and he just sighed.

“Fine then,” she groused, pretending to pout. He grinned and wasted no time. He spread some oil on his hands and moved behind her. With gentle fingers he worked the oil through her hair, his warm touch soothing her. He carefully slid his fingers through her tangles, unknotting them without hurting her. She was nearly asleep by the time he finished, lulled by his soft massage.

He kissed her shoulder as he finished. “I love the way you respond to my touch,” he whispered just beneath her ear, and she shivered.

“If you’re not careful,” she told him as heat crept through her belly, “we will never sleep again because I will continuously ravish you.” He chuckled, the sound sending shivers across her skin before he moved away.

“You are tired,” he announced, as though it were news. She raised a brow. “As am I,” he conceded, lips twitching. They left the bathing pool and he wrapped her in a warm towel. He dried her hair for her and gently patted the water off her skin.

“You’re going to spoil me,” she told him. He merely smiled as he knelt before her and dried off her legs. “I’ll never be able to sleep in a field tent again.”

“I have every intention of showering you in all the luxuries available to me,” he told her as he toweled himself off. She sighed contentedly.

They went back up to their room and Lyna crawled into bed. Somehow, the sheets were clean instead of covered in sweat and sex, but she was too tired to question how. She was asleep by the time Solas crawled in behind her and pulled her into his embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like smut. I'm sure no one noticed! :D
> 
> I have a thing for super huge baths. You have no idea... I would kill for one of these. I would murder someone using only a butter knife to have a bath like this.
> 
> My inspiration has been a bit spotty lately. I got sick for a while and I'm under huge financial stress since my car broke down, and neither of those things is good for my writing... I'm hoping to be able to write a bit more now that I'm feeling better, but I guess we'll see.


	13. Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

“I think I’d like a tour today,” Lyna announced a few hours later as she swiftly braided her hair. “I’ve hardly seen any of the palace at all.”

“I believe I can indulge you,” Solas told her with a smile as he settled his wolf’s jawbone in place over his shirt. Lyna grinned at him as she collected their son and a satchel with essentials like diapers.

They held hands as they descended to the throne room. Lyna was certain that she would never tire of his touch. His hand was warm and rough and everything she wanted, his long fingers laced with hers so perfectly. It felt odd to be so appreciative of his hands, of all things, but they had done much for her. His hands had healed many wounds, had dried her tears, had brought her pleasure. She had noticed long ago that he touched very few people, and usually only in necessity, but he had never missed an opportunity to touch her. She loved it.

He showed her the common bathing rooms, each as opulent, though much larger, than their private bath. There was one for women only, one for men only, and one for anyone at all. He showed her the many halls of private rooms belonging to his agents, even walking her through a few empty ones to show her what they were like. There were several sizes of rooms, some meant for couples, some for families, some for only one person. Each had its own privy and plenty of room for personal belongings. They were impressively constructed, each apartment far nicer than anything most elves had ever lived in before joining his ranks.

He showed her the cleared fields outside the palace where crops were grown, the palace nearly self-sustaining with all the food they grew themselves. He introduced her to some of the people who worked the fields, let her discover how happy they were to work the soil for the benefit of the palace and themselves instead of for some lord who looked down on them and kept them in poverty.

He showed her the enormous kitchens with their rotating staff, constantly producing food even between meals and processing the harvested crops and breaking down the meat the hunters brought in. There was always food available in the main hall for those who wanted it. The kitchen was staffed even overnight, that time used to break down carcasses and bake bread for the earliest risers among them. The overnight staff also made sure the kitchen was cleaned and stocked.

He showed her the training yards, where those with combat experience kept their skills sharp or learned new tricks. A few of the veterans had taken it upon themselves to become trainers for those who had never learned to fight but wanted to. It was there that he introduced her to the blacksmiths, a dozen or so elves who worked in a forge nearby to craft weapons and armor for the agents of Fen’Harel.

“Oh, good!” the leader of the blacksmiths exclaimed when Lyna and Solas entered. “Need your measurements, my lady. Double checking to make sure it’ll fit.” He was a hard older man, his muscles bulging impressively and sweat streaked through the soot on his bare arms and face, a deep scar cutting his down his cheek and the tip of one ear missing, silver-streaked black hair cut short.

“My measurements?” Lyna asked, eyeing Solas.

“I asked that armor and weapons be crafted for you,” Solas told her. The blacksmith grunted and nodded as he whipped out a knotted measuring cord. He moved around her and carefully measured the length of her legs, the width of her hips and waist and bust, the length of her arms and width of her neck. His touch was gentle, impersonal, and he moved away to write down his findings as soon as he was finished.

“It’s only right that you have good equipment if you’re to lead us,” the blacksmith said as he dropped the notebook with her measurements in front of one of his underlings. Then he sorted through a table full of what seemed to be sword belts until he found one made of halla leather. It had intricate patterning of Dalish symbols and several pouches, one clearly meant for potions and another filled with her favored style of throwing knives, others multi-purposed. “Here, this is all we’ve got finished for you right now. The beast what gave us this leather was sick and ready to die. Never worry that we’ve mistreated any animals as close to the People as a halla!”

“Thank you,” Lyna told him, touched. Solas held his son while Lyna strapped the belt around her waist. It settled there easily, like it belonged, and she smiled. “It is good to know that I will be properly armed again! Thank you for your diligent work.” The blacksmith grunted and shooed them away from his workshop.

“I thought you might like to wield a bow again. One is being made for you,” Solas said as they made their way back toward the palace. She grinned at him.

“I’ve missed hunting,” she admitted softly. He brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“I would feel better if you brushed up on your combat skills before wandering into the forest alone,” he told her. She smiled wryly and agreed.

They were barely back within the walls when they were intercepted by a lightly armored sentry.

“My lord, Banal’Halam has returned,” he said, bowing as he panted. “They will be coming through the eluvian at any moment and asked that I bring their prisoner to your attention.”

“Only one prisoner?” Solas asked. The sentry nodded.

“So I was told,” he said.

“Very well, then.” The sentry bowed and trotted off while Solas turned his gaze to Lyna. “I am afraid that we will have to delay the rest of the tour, vhenan,” he told her. She shrugged, accepting little Solas when he was handed back into her arms and shifting his sleeping form carefully. “However, I think you might enjoy meeting these agents, assuming they can behave themselves.”

“Why are they called Banal’Halam?” Lyna asked as she followed him toward the courtyard with the eluvian.

“Ah, an honorary title bestowed upon them,” Solas said, which did not really answer her question. “I’m told they dislike it.” Lyna chuckled.

“Most people dislike titles given by others,” she observed.

“Ah, yes,” he said, sliding her a look. “I remember how much you disliked being Andraste’s herald.”

“Don’t get me started,” she muttered. He chuckled in response.

The eluvian activated and the children who were gardening were quickly hustled away, despite their protests. Lyna found that curious. Banal’Halam seemed to her like a very respectful title, yet the little ones were being removed from the area as though to shield them?

A human, bound and gagged, fell through first, landing on his face in the dirt. An elven man with tawny skin and bright golden hair followed, a satisfied grin on his face as he cleaned his bloody blade on a rag. An elven woman stepped through a moment later and Lyna couldn’t help but stare. She seemed to have more scars than skin, her bright red hair was pulled severely back, a few escaped strands curling wildly, and she wore no expression at all. She was thin, nearly malnourished, though she was slender regardless, and her leather armor was made of drakeskin in a Fereldan style. The man beside her watched her from the corner of his eye almost warily, though his jovial expression never faltered. His armor was drakeskin as well, though it seemed to be in an Antivan style. A few scraps of colored cloth clung to the woman, like she’d been wearing clothing over her armor and it had been torn off.

“What happened to the other one you were sent to collect?” Solas asked them, his tone imperious and hard. Lyna stole a look at him and found the relaxed posture from the tour was gone, Solas replaced by Fen’Harel for the time being. She tried not to sigh as the woman’s eyes, like molten gold, turned in his direction. Still expressionless, she tossed something towards him. It squished wetly as it made contact with the cobblestones.

“He didn’t make it,” the woman said, her voice without inflection, as the eluvian went dark behind her. Lyna almost would have taken her for a Tranquil made but for some hidden fury burning behind her eyes. Then she looked at what the woman had dropped and took a quick step back. The severed head had rolled so the face was showing, a horrible grimace of death, and a pool of blood was leaking from the raggedly cut neck. The man had been human and was clearly not much of a looker in life, a state only worsened by death.

Solas sighed, looking disappointed and mildly irritated. “The man had useful information,” he told them coldly. “Why is he dead?” The woman shrugged stiffly.

“We got you that one,” she said with a negligent wave at the living prisoner, who was staring, horrified, at the severed head and trying to crawl away from it. He was stopped by the elven man’s boot coming down on the middle of his back and flattening him against the cobblestone. The smell of death had just reached Lyna and her son had begun fussing as he smelled it, too, so she carefully stepped upwind.

“You were supposed to get both,” Solas said, his tone dangerous. The elven man, who had done nothing besides remind their prisoner not to move, approached Solas and suddenly looked far more angry than jovial. The change had happened in an instant and was entirely jarring. The man had crow’s feet beside his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth and he seemed far better suited to laughter than fury, but it burned strongly in him all the same.

“That pig was going to rape her,” he snarled, sheathing his cleaned blade on his back. He had her in the alley with her skirt around her hips by the time I found them.”

“I am certain she could have handled it,” Solas said coolly.

“Even I can be overpowered, Dread Wolf,” the woman said, not seeming to mind the way they had talked about her as if she was not present. Her voice was still emotionless, but her eyes blazed with hatred. Lyna didn’t know who it was directed at; Solas, the dead human, or someone else entirely.

“There were four of them,” the elven man spat, his jaw clenched. He advanced on Solas, radiating fury. “Are you suggesting that I should have allowed them to have their way for the sake of your _information?_ She has suffered enough.”

“I am suggesting that you should have found a way to take him alive,” Solas told him, responding to the threat in the man’s posture with his own.

 _“I tried,_ ” the man retorted, his fists clenching as tightly as his jaw.

“Try harder next time.”

“Solas!” Lyna cried, aghast. Whatever else he was going to say died on his lips as the Dread Wolf snapped his mouth closed.

 _“You_ can curb his tongue?” the woman asked, mild curiosity in her voice and the tilt of her eyebrow. The fire of her anger was nowhere in sight but something dangerous still lurked behind her eyes like a caged beast. She had her arms wrapped around herself, one finger lightly tracing a jagged scar that traveled the length of her forearm. “It’s a feat I have never witnessed. How impressive,” she murmured. A small smile curved her lips and that tiny expression turned her from stark and scarred to beautiful. Though thick burn scars lined her throat and her chin was marred to her jaw and her hairline was broken by a scar that narrowly missed her right eye and tugged at her nose, she was incredibly beautiful. Her features were narrow and delicate, her cheekbones prominent, but lit by emotion she was undeniably gorgeous. She lit up far more than Lyna would have expected.

“Man always bow to the wishes of their women,” Lyna said, trying not to stare, “if they know what is good for them.” Her smile widened, though it was still small, and she looked at the man who accompanied her contemplatively.

“Indeed they do,” she murmured, and the man smiled at her widely enough to crinkle the dark swirls of the tattoo on the left side of his face.

“You are the halla we have heard so many rumors about, then?” the man asked, his Antivan accent making her miss Josephine.

“I am not a halla,” she told him.

“Naturally,” the woman replied. “And I am not dead.” The man laughed, a light and joyous sound that filled the space and made the woman look a little more pleased.

“I don’t understand. Is there a joke I’m missing?” Lyna asked, looking between the two. She moved a little further upwind of the severed head and shifted her son so he couldn’t look that way.

“My name is Kahlia,” the woman told her. “That’s my bond mate, Zevran.” She said nothing more, but it was enough.

 _“You_ are the Hero of Ferelden?” Lyna asked, incredulous. Kahlia scoffed.

“A title that Alistair came up with, no doubt,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“So I heard,” Zevran replied. “I would have fought it on your account, but I had other things on my mind.” With gentle fingers, he touched her cheek, careful to move slowly and remain in her field of vision. She smiled at him a little.

“But you’re dead!” Lyna cried, then blushed at her lack of grace. “I mean, everyone thought that the Grey Warden who killed the Archdemon died in the attempt.”

Kahlia’s face closed, like a door slamming, and Zevran removed his touch. “I _should_ have been dead. But Morrigan is good for something besides being irritatingly pessimistic,” she said darkly.

“Oh, mi amor,” Zevran cooed, ignoring his mate’s fury, “you are in no position to complain about pessimism!” She sighed at him.

Kahlia sketched a lazy bow to Solas, irony in every line of her body. “Now then, Fen’Harel, I am three days overdue for a bath. Unless you require something further, I would like to retire.”

“Take that with you and dispose of it,” Solas said, his tone broking no argument as he gestured to the severed head. “There was no need to bring it and stain the gardens.”

“I brought it for proof, Wolf,” she said, but she stooped to pick it up anyway. She then walked off, her steps so light that she seemed to float away. Zevran followed her, bowing more honestly first.

“Inquisitor,” he said as he passed, “it was an honor to make your acquaintance. Forgive my wife her temper.”

“I am not Inquisitor anymore,” Lyna replied with a polite smile. “I hope we will get a chance to talk soon.”

“As do I,” he told her, almost flirtatiously. He kissed her hand, leaving a slight smearing of blood behind. She doubted it was his. Then he hurried after Kahlia.

“That was… interesting,” Lyna observed, staring after them. The children who had been hurried away returned and continued their tasks. Solas sighed as he let magic wash over the little pool of blood on the cobblestones to clean it.

“If I had realized what happened on their mission, I would have suggested introducing you at another time,” he said, his mouth pulled down at the corners. “She can be somewhat antagonistic at the best of times, but a successful hunt usually leaves her in relatively good spirits.”

“What happened to her?” Lyna asked curiously. “I thought she was dead. All Dalish believe that.”

“She is, in a lot of ways,” he told her sadly. She frowned at him. “For her sake, I wish Cole had not returned to the Fade. She could benefit from his gifts, though I rather doubt that she would allow him to help her easily.”

“But what _happened?”_ Lyna asked again.

“It is… not my place to say,” Solas said finally. “Suffice it to say that most of the scars she bears were received _after_ the end of the Fifth Blight.” He was silent for a moment, then gently laced his fingers with hers. “Come, then. There are a few more stops to make on our tour, if you wish.”

 

* * *

 

“Kahlia, my love, you should _try_ not to antagonize our host,” Zevran said as he gently washed Kahlia’s hair for her in an attempt to soothe her ire. Their private bath echoed with the sound of running water, steam obscuring most of the room.

“He can be such a prick sometimes,” she muttered, and he knew his efforts were doomed for the moment.

“Well, yes. I’d imagine that anyone who once claimed to be a god would also be an ass, but that is beside the point.” She hugged, wrapping her arms around herself again. He hated to see the defensive gesture, but he wouldn’t comment on it. She was so much more closed-off than she had been when he had first fallen in love with her. She knew it, too, and often asked him how he could still love her when she wasn’t the same person anymore. She was wrong about that; she was still his Kahlia even after all she’d been through. He would never stop loving her.

“Remind me why we’re working for him, again?”

He sighed. “Well, the palace to live in and food to eat don’t hurt,” he observed. “But remember why we fight. If we succeed and the world is made anew, the darkspawn will all be gone and our people will be free. Your people will have a home to call their own. All the Dalish will. Is that not enough?” She sighed heavily.

“Yes,” she murmured. “It is enough.” He kissed her gently and she stiffened before returning his kiss with her own fiery passion. _She_ was why he was there, not any god’s fight. He fought because it was important to her, because she believed in this. He didn’t care where he was or what he was asked to do as long as she was by his side.

 

* * *

 

Zevran found them, his hair damp and his clothes different, while they were wandering the herb gardens near the kitchens. Lyna hadn’t realized that the courtyard with the eluvian wasn’t the only garden within the palace walls.

“Well, it seems that our little gift yielded results uncommonly quickly,” the Antivan man said as he drew close. “This one is best handled personally, it seems, but Kahlia and I are ready and willing to follow.”

“How far?” Solas asked. Lyna looked back and forth between them, wondering why it sounded like he would be leaving. She pulled the flower her son had stolen out of his mouth and replaced it with a bean from a nearby stalk, letting him gum it happily.

Zevran shrugged. “A week? Perhaps more. It is in the middle of nowhere, to say the least, some ruins north of Tevinter. I’ve been nearby before, but never that far west. It is very wild country.” Solas hummed in thought.

“Very well. Gather your mate and contact Tan’Adahla. They will be joining us, as well. I have a feeling their magic will be useful,” Solas said. Zevran bowed, then turned his gaze to Lyna.

“I apologize, my dear Halla, for taking him away from you so suddenly,” Zevran purred, not rising from the bow. She wasn’t sure how to respond, still assessing the former assassin and learning his mannerisms, so she simply smiled slightly and unwound her hair from her son’s fist for the fourth time in ten minutes.

“Please, don’t call me Halla,” she said at last. He laughed and it was an infectious sound, light yet full-bodied.

“Well, my dear, no one has told me your name!” he cried, his gaze oddly intense.

“Stop flirting with her, Crow,” Solas said, but didn’t sound upset. Zevran didn’t even spare him a glance.

“My name is Lyna,” she said, struggling to the subtext between them two men. There was a tension there that she didn’t quite understand.

“Well, Lyna,” Zevran said, his voice low and intimate, purring her name in a way only an Antivan could, “I very much look forward to speaking more with you.” Solas’s hand descended on the other man’s shoulder forcefully.

“You have business to tend to, and I have already requested that you stop flirting with her,” Solas said, no longer amused. “She is mine.” Lyna scowled but didn’t comment for the moment.

Zevran stepped back, then bowed mockingly. “As you command,” he said, his lips twisted with disdain. He turned to leave, but looked over his shoulder before he was gone. “I will have none but my Kahlia. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear three years ago when you contacted me.” The tense set of Solas’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed.

“Of course. My apologies.” Zevran’s eyes narrowed.

“And I would suggest that the woman you love is not a possession.” And then he was gone.

“Jealousy seems unlike you,” Lyna observed mildly. Solas sighed again and turned to her. He hesitated before gently cupping her face in his hand and kissing her lightly.

“I still fear losing you,” he admitted softly. “I want you here, need you here, but I am terrified every time I turn around that you will be gone when I look for you.”

“I want to be here, Solas,” she reminded him, her hand covering his. “I have chosen this and I want it.”

“I know,” he murmured, gazing at her intensely. “I’ll work on it.” She smiled at him.

“You have to leave now?” she asked, her mind skipping back to his conversation with Zevran, if it could be called that.

“Yes,” Solas sighed. “The man that Banal’Halam brought back had knowledge of a powerful artifact that might be just what I’ve been searching for. The nature of the item requires my presence and magical expertise. It will take at least a week for us to reach the ruins that hold it.”

“There isn’t an eluvian?” she asked, looking away and trying to hide her disappointment. Solas curled a finger under her chin, asking her to look at him. She did, and he looked as sorrowful as she felt.

“There is, and it will bring us within a week’s travel,” he told her. “Without it, we would travel a month or more. There are only so many eluvians left in Thedas and they are not everywhere. I must go, but I will hurry to return to you.” He gave her a small smile. “If this artifact is what I need, then I will never have to leave your side again.” She smiled a little in return.

“And if it is not, then I need to get used to this sort of thing,” she finished for him.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“I had hoped for more time with you,” she admitted. “But my mother should be arriving today.”

“I know.” He wrapped his arms around her, careful of the infant between them. “Come upstairs,” he whispered in her ear. “I will say goodbye in the sweetest way I can think of.” She shivered in his grasp, heat already pooling in her belly just from his tone.

As they walked back towards the throne room, Lyna asked, “Who are the three trees?”

“Ah, Tan’Adahla. They are sisters, triplets,” Solas told her. “Like Banal’Halam, they always work together. Two of them are gifted mages and the other is a very skilled warrior. They were born in the city and evaded the Templars’ notice all their lives. They were among my first agents.”

“Do all your agents have code names like that?” Lyna asked, untangling her hair from their son yet again. Solas chuckled.

“Hardly,” he told her, smiling wryly. “Those who are all but inseparable or are particularly noteworthy tend to earn titles bestowed by their peers, but there are not many who do. Banal’Halam are both feared and respected, as the concept of eternity often is. The former Grey Warden who ended the Fifth Blight and the Guild Master of the Antivan Crows make for a powerful and extremely noteworthy couple. Tan’Adahla earned their name before they joined me, however. They were part of the Mages’ Collective for a long time and are said to be as unyielding and strong as trees. They still use the title since they still work to help mages in Thedas. They do not live at Sa’amal’uan, unlike most of my agents, because they prefer to be available for their other duties.”

Lyna said nothing more as they returned to their room. Solas helped her settle their son in his crib, then drew her into his arms and kissed her fiercely. Her dress hit the floor before she even realized he’d taken it off and she gasped as her skin tingled.

He stripped himself just as quickly and before she knew it she was on her back in bed and he was looming over her. No time for finesse, for gentle touches and soft whispers and a slow build of need, he bit her neck as he slipped his fingers inside her. She gasped, shocked at how quickly he moved and how quickly his touch, his desperate need, aroused her. Within moments she was wet and ready, bucking her hips against his hand, and she grasped his cock where it rested on her hip. His teeth dug sharply into her skin, marking her, as her palm made contact and he moaned as she caressed him.

“I will think of little else but you, vhenan,” Solas whispered as she began to gasp from his touch and he thrust into her fist. “Each night when I sleep I will find you in the Fade. Each day as I travel, I will remember the touch of your skin.” He pulled away from her, then replaced his fingers inside of her with his cock. She cried out and arched up, delicious friction warming her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling herself up along his length as he thrust. His fingers dug into her hips as he rode her hard and face, unmerciful, moaning into her hair as her body clenched around him.

“Solas!” she cried as lightning traveled along her nerves. He swallowed her moans and cries with his mouth, taking her lip between his teeth and teasing her with his tongue.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered at her ear, licking the sensitive blade and moaning as her nails dug into his back in response. His hand gently cupped her breast and she felt him shudder, nearing his end. “You are mine and I will always be yours.” He tilted his hips just so and she was finished. Faster than she would have thought possible, he brought her over the edge. Her head whipped across the pillow, hair tangling beneath her, and she screamed as her toes curled and her muscles contracted, her fingernails raking his back as he shuddered over her, riding out her orgasm. When she returned to reality he was still thrusting and he picked up his pace as he felt her peak recede. Each thrust pressed the tip of him against that perfect little spot deep inside and she neared the razor’s edge again quickly, his stamina driving her crazy.

“Oh, Solas, please!” she cried, and came again, sinking her teeth in his shoulder to muffle her cries. He rode it out again, his breathing ragged in her ear. When she finished, he leaned back and hooked her leg over his shoulder, stretching it up, and watched her as he thrust. She gripped his wrist where it rested beside her hip and watched him watch her, shivering from the pleasure of touch and the aftershocks of orgasm but still hungry for him. When her tongue wet her lips, his eyes followed the motion before he unconsciously copied it.

Her free hand dipped to where their bodies joined and she played with herself. He groaned, watching as she swirled her fingers around her clit. A third orgasm took her as she pressed on the engorged bud, a sound of rushing water in her ears, that left her laughing breathlessly up at him, but still he did not follow her down.

He never slowed this time, never allowed her time to recover, just continued to pound into her body in long strokes as sweat trickled down his skin. One hand held her knee up at his hip, the other braced his weight on the bed beside her. Her leg began to slip off his shoulder, slick with sweat, and he withdrew from her. She cried out at the lack, reaching for him, but he flipped her over and pulled her onto her hands and knees. He pressed down between her shoulders, forcing her front onto the bed, and entered her from behind. They both cried out, pleasure so strong it was nearly pain, his hand fisting in her hair, her hands bunched in the sheets. She came again, unable to stop it, muffling her cries with the pillow until he drew her up, pressing her back against his chest. He sucked on the skin of her neck as he growled into her flesh, marking her like a beast marking its mate, still thrusting inside her as she convulsed around him, her arms reaching back to claw at his hips, and he finally came.

His face buried in her neck, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand frantically rubbing her clit to draw out her release, he pumped his seed deep within her. Each hot jet was accompanied by a muffled yell and her hand reached back to cradle his head. When he was finally spent, he fell forward, still twitching within her, and kissed her shoulders and the marks he’d left in her skin gently. He smoothed her hair away from her face and pressed his lips softly against her cheek before withdrawing.

Lyna turned over and watched him through the haze of afterglow, a lazy smile on her lips. He wiped a wet cloth over his skin quickly, his touch careful with his aching testicles, cleaning up. He rolled his head on his shoulders, releasing tension, then touched the mark of her teeth in his neck and the sore spot it no doubt represented. He smiled and left the mark alone as he went to his wardrobe. She heard the clanking of metal on metal and summoned the will to sit up and watch him over the headboard. He was already wearing this trousers and tunic and was donning familiar armor. She watched as he expertly strapped each piece of silverite in place then wrapped a wolf pelt around his shoulders, tucking it into his belt. In very short order he was armored and ready to go. She sighed.

“No less than two weeks until I see you again, then?” she asked as he stuffed some clothing and other necessities into a pack and slung it over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so,” he told her, bending to kiss her gently. When he pulled away, she grabbed his face and demanded another kiss. He didn’t fight it, giving in to her passion for a moment.

“While I’m gone, you could see to the needs of your clan, should they arrive. Alifalon can help; she knows the palace inside and out and could draw you a perfect map from memory,” he told her with a small smile.

“See you in my dreams, then,” she said, releasing him only because she had to.

“I promise,” he told her, giving her one last, quick kiss before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since my last update! I've been so tired that on my last day off I slept literally all day, waking up only to use the bathroom and eat something. Life has been stressful and I've been taking extra shifts at work and I've been forgetting what time means.
> 
> So I altered a fair amount in this chapter! I realized how little of the palace I originally described and decided that needed to change! So they actually went on the tour I neglected last time around. In case you can't tell, this palace is fucking huge! I also changed a bit in the way Kahlia and Zevran were introduced. Poor Kahlia has gone through so many character alterations that it was hard to remember which version I stuck with! I think I did pretty well, though! She's tough to write from an outside perspective.
> 
> Omg I have never looked at a sex scene I wrote and thought, "Shit, I hate this!" Today I did. The smut at the end of the chapter was absolutely awful! I think I mostly fixed it, or I hope I did, but I was sort of thrown by the fact that it was so bad in the original version! I am ashamed of myself.
> 
> And now to find some coffee so I don't fall asleep at work.


	14. Desired Peace

Lyna was waiting at the eluvian, little Solas in her arms, when Ashavise arrived. The sentry had found her as she was talking to Alifalon about where her clan could be housed in the palace. She’d asked the palace’s Keeper to accompany her but the woman had declined, saying that she needed to check something. So Lyna waited alone.

“Da’len!” Ashavise exclaimed when she came through the glowing portal Lyna grinned as she stepped into her mother’s open arms.

“Mamae!” she cried, and her son took the opportunity to tug on both of their hair. “Ah! Da’mi, could you not do that just this once?” Lyna sighed and attempted to untangle her mother from her son’s fist.

Ashavise rubbed at her scalp, smiling wryly. “He’s certainly a strong one.” Then she looked around herself at the courtyard, pale brows rising in her wrinkled face. “Wow,” she murmured. “I wasn’t expecting a palace.” Lyna chuckled.

“It surprised me as well, I promise you,” she told her mother. “Come on, then, I’ve had rooms prepared for you.”

Ashavise hefted her bags over her shoulders and followed, but stopped in the throne room to gape. Lunch was being set up, tables covered with cloths and dishes set out in preparation. Ashavise was staring at the vaulted ceiling, twenty feet above them and inlaid with intricate designs in silver gilt. “Oh, glory,” she whispered. Lyna chuckled.

“Look at the throne Mamae,” she murmured, and Ashavise’s gaze followed her daughter’s gesture.

“I can’t help but notice that there is only one,” she observed after a few long moments of staring. Lyna laughed as she guided her mother away from the throne room.

“He doesn’t use it anymore,” she informed her mother. “Well, except for yesterday. But that was because I pushed him into it and then sat on his lap to keep him there.” Ashavise laughed, still staring at their surroundings. She seemed particularly interested in the windows, as clear and smooth as they were.

“You are definitely my daughter,” she said distractedly. “I would have done the same to your father.” Lyna laughed as they climbed the main stairs, shallow and wide enough for five people to stand abreast and climb comfortably.

“I remember what you did to father,” she said playfully and watched her mother smile at old and pleasant memories. “You weren’t exactly subtle with your affections.”

At the top of the stairs they traveled through a wide hall with magically suspended flames in sconces lining it between the doors to the apartments. They had to take three turns before arriving at the door to the one that Lyna had asked to be cleaned for her mother’s arrival. Each door had a different symbol for those who lived there to recognize and hers was marked with a beautifully painted halla. Lyna opened the door and they entered the sitting room, where Ashavise dropped her bags with a grateful sigh.

“Through that door is the bedroom, Mamae,” Lyna said, pointing. “There’s a wardrobe there and a privy attached. The bathing room is further down the hall through the door marked with a waterfall. You can’t miss it. It’s beautiful and the water is always warm, though it is communal. You can use it whenever you like.”

“This is… incredible,” Ashavise murmured, running her hand over the soft pine wood of the desk and gazing at the windows that lined that wall.

Alifalon came out of the bedroom then and gave a startled gasp. “Oh, sorry,” she said, trying hurry away. “I didn’t realize you were here already. I was just making sure everything is set for you, I’ll go now.”

“Wait,” Ashavise commanded, and the Keeper cringed but obeyed. “Is that… Alifalon?”

The slim woman sighed, then turned to look at Ashavise. “I know it isn’t realistic to have hoped that you wouldn’t recognize me, but I did anyway,” she said wryly.

“But… how?” Ashavise, staring at the woman she’d believed to be dead for over a decade.

“I really don’t want to explain it to everyone over and over,” she said agitatedly. “I understand that the clan will most likely be moving in shortly, so I’ll say it one more time and then anyone else who asks can get the story from the two of you.” She leaned against the wall beside the door, crossing her arms and looking at her feet. “My bond mate was horrible to me. He would force himself on me when I didn’t want him, he hit me, he controlled my every move. When Fen’Harel approached me in my dreams to become his agent, his promise protection from Drynne was too good for me to pass up. So I faked my death and joined him. I’ve been here ever since as Keeper of the palace.”

“Oh, Ali, I’m so sorry!” Ashavise cried, and Alifalon looked up, startled.

“You’re sorry?” she echoed, sounding surprised.

“I tried to tell Deshanna that Drynne wasn’t as nice as he seemed,” Ashavise said. “He always gave me chills whenever he touched me and I worried about you. Deshanna didn’t believe me.”

Alifalon’s lips twisted. “She didn’t believe me, either,” she grumbled. “For what it’s worth, I did miss you.”

Ashavise smiled gently. “I missed you, too,” she replied. “I’m glad that you’re alright. And I’m glad that Drynne is dead these ten years.”

“So I heard,” Alifalon said, sliding a glance to Lyna. “I have been well rid of him.”

“Do you have a new bond mate?” Ashavise asked. Alifalon laughed, the sound rough and a bit wild, like she hadn’t made it in a long time.

“No! And I don’t expect that to change,” she admitted. “I have my hands full here, what with being Amelan of Sa’amal’uan. I oversee this whole palace and those who live here, all the day-to-day chores and any complaints.”

“You are Keeper here?” Ashavise asked, startled.

Alifalon shrugged. “It is a much more domestic position than it is in a clan,” she said. “The shemlen would call me a steward. Still, I enjoy it. I like making sure everything is running smoothly. I like knowing that all this exists due in large part to my efforts. I appoint everyone to the tasks they are best suited to and if there are problems I address them. It’s a lot of responsibility but I enjoy it.”

“She does a wonderful job, from what I’ve seen,” Lyna added, and Alifalon blushed. “Mamae, how did it go with the clan and the elves of Wycome?” she asked. “How many should we expect?”

Ashavise grinned at her daughter, excited. “The entire clan is coming, along with one hundred and ninety-three of the city elves,” she revealed. Lyna gasped and Alifalon’s jaw dropped. “That’s a total of three hundred and sixty-eight.”

“Fen’Harel’s blessings!” Alifalon cried. “I need to know how many are families that live together, how many children, how many elders…” She pulled a pad of paper and a stick of charcoal from some unseen pocket and began scribbling in it.

“Ah… Sorry, Ali,” Ashavise said. “I suppose we forgot about the practicalities involved in housing so many.” She smiled apologetically. “We weren’t told what to expect here, to be honest, and this whole situation seems so magical and impossible that it just slipped our minds.”

“Oh, it’s alright, Asha,” Alifalon said distractedly, still scribbling. “We’re going to have to place most of them in temporary quarters until we know exactly what everyone needs and get the apartments cleaned out. Oh, please tell me they’re not all arriving at once!”

“Deshanna and Clan Lavellan are coming together,” Ashavise told her. “I’m told it will be a week before they arrive. They want to make sure everything is set in the city first. I can provide an accurate count of the clan for you. The city elves will start trickling in tomorrow, a family or two at a time.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to find three hundred and sixty-eight beds at once,” Alifalon muttered as she continued to scribble. “I’ll be back for that count of the clan in an hour or two, I have a few things to do first, namely in the kitchens!”

“Of course, my apologies again,” Ashavise said.

“Will I see you at lunch?” Lyna asked the Keeper, adjusting Solas in her arms and trying to keep her hair out of his hands. She really needed to get back in the habit of braiding it.

“No, I think I’ll be eating on the run,” Alifalon told them as she headed for the door. “But I’ll be around. I rarely leave the palace and my responsibilities here.” And then she was gone.

“Well, what other surprises do you have in store for me, da’len?” Ashavise asked, raising an eyebrow at her daughter. Lyna laughed and thought about it for a moment.

“Hmm. The Hero of Ferelden is alive,” she finally told her mother. “And currently off with the Dread Wolf chasing after some ancient artifact.” Ashavise’s look of utter shock was worth it and Lyna struggled to contain her laughter.

“Has she been here since the end of the Blight?” Ashavise asked after a moment.

“That’s actually a good question,” Lyna mused. “My impression is that they’ve been here for about three years, but I could be wrong. I didn’t have much time for an introduction.”

“They?”

“Oh, she’s bonded.” Ashavise’s jaw hit the floor with her shock and Lyna chuckled. “Zevran, the Antivan assassin from the House of Crows who helped her defeat the Blight, is here with her as her bond mate. The people here call them Banal’Halam, apparently. It seems fitting.”

“Creators,” Ashavise whispered as she sank into a chair. Her eyes traveled through the room, taking in the silk couches and polished pine wood. Her gaze settled on her threadbare bags and she grimaced. “This place is so much _more_ than I expected.”

“I know, Mamae,” Lyna said gently, crouching in front of her mother. She handed the woman her grandson, who squealed happily and tried to pull her hair. Lyna combed hers with her fingers and began to braid it. “It’s a lot to take in. You’ll get used to it, though. It’s very decadent and somewhat confusing, but it’s wonderful here.” Ashavise smiled as she attempted to keep her grandson out of trouble.

“For the promise of a home, lands to call our own, and the greatness of the People restored, I think I can put up with it,” she said wryly, and Lyna laughed.

 

* * *

 

“Vhenan.” The word floated to Lyna as she rested on a bed of clouds and sunshine. She turned and the world coalesced into a hazy version of her bedroom at Sa’amal’uan. She stretched, drowsy, and rolled over to drag herself closer to Solas. He chuckled as she pillowed her head on his chest and wrapped his arm around her. There was fabric under her cheek and she tugged at it in irritation until it vanished from under her. She lay there, content in his embrace, groggy and slow, while he ran his hands over her skin.

“What is it that you desire?” he asked her, voice silky and soft. She smiled lazily, eyes closed.

“You already know,” she reminded him, voice slurred slightly. Her head was full of cotton but she was warm and comfortable and couldn’t be bothered by it.

“Tell me anyway,” he whispered, leaning down to nip at her ear. She giggled and ducked away.

“I have what I want,” she informed him through the haze of it all.

“Surely there is more that I can give you,” he insisted. “Jewels, power, fame. Anything.”

Lyna frowned slightly. “You know I don’t care about all that. I am comfortable and that is enough.”

“Is it? I could give you anything,” he whispered sweetly. “Everything.”

“But I don’t… I don’t need-“ she began, but he cut her off.

“But what do you _want?”_ he asked, his arms tightening around her. Something was off, but she was so tired and the whole world felt heavy around her.

“Desire…” she murmured, frowning, trying to think through the heavy fog of confusion.

“Yes,” Solas whispered seductively.

“No!” she cried, instinctive terror making her try to pull away. He held her closer and she couldn’t move an inch. Panic began to take hold and with the rush of adrenaline her head finally cleared. She was sleeping. And she was trapped. “Let go!”

“I want what you want,” the demon whispered. “And you want me.”

 _“Not you!_ ” she cried, twisting in its grasp. “Solas!”

“But I am-“

“You are not! I know my vhenan! I know my own heart and he is not you!” She finally wrenched herself away, but the demon did not immediately follow. She stared at it, an almost perfect replica of her lover. It was wrong in the details, in the slightly skewed scar on the brow and the opacity of the eyes, the tilt to the lips and the shade of the skin. If she hadn’t been as intimately familiar with all the little details of Solas as she was, it may have fooled her with that image. But Solas would never trap her like that, not even for a moment. Solas wouldn’t offer her riches and power because he knew her better than that. And she could feel the Fade around her, flowing through the demon in a way it didn’t through Solas. He was of the Fade but not part of it, not like the demon before her.

“Why do you do this?” she asked it. “Why can you not be Purpose? Or another spirit? Why can you not be peaceful?”

“You ask me this as though my form were a choice,” the demon said, its tone condescending. “Is your form a choice?”

“In the Fade, yes,” she told it. “I do not want you to be corrupted.”

“I am only what I am meant for,” it told her. “I have not adapted to your expectations as you assume. It is not that way for us all.” It smirked at her. “Such simplistic labels do all a disservice.”

She stiffened as it repeated something Solas had once told her. “Then be gone. I will not make a deal with you. I want nothing from you.”

“But I like it here,” the demon told her, settling into her bed as if it belonged there. “You have so many desires. Perhaps not ones I can make use of, but even this sliver of my world that you inhabit in dreams is filled with your desires. Love, family, the restoration of your people. Sex, intimacy… These things that you want are always here, around you. Perhaps you are content with your lot for now, but mortals always want more eventually.”

“Whatever I want I can get for myself,” she told it stiffly, sheets gathered around herself like a shield.

It laughed cruelly and the sheets vanished from her grasp. She gasped and tried to cover herself. “You say that now, little girl,” it sang insolently. “You will find that life is not as easy as all that.”

“I know what life is!” she retorted. “Get out of my dreams!” She focused, trying to eject the demon, but it would not go. She wasn’t strong enough or it was too far in, she couldn’t tell. She began to panic as she stared at the demon that wore her lover’s face and laughed cruelly at her efforts to expel it.

“Lyna!” It was Solas’s voice and it rang true in her ears. She turned and found a giant black wolf with six ruby red eyes standing beside the bed. She gasped and scrambled away. “Get away from her,” the wolf demanded, staring at the demon and growling. It was still Solas’s voice coming from the wolf and only for a moment she didn’t understand.

The demon sat up, looking far more intrigued than frightened. The false blue eyes flashed vicious yellow for a moment, a familiar color that was gone in an instant. “Ah, now you have so many desires, don’t you? Wanderer, He Who Hunts Alone, the Great Betrayer, you are interesting. Far more so than your little mortal pet! So many desires, so much grief.” It shivered in pleasure, wrapping its arms around itself. It was wrong, jarring, horrible to see that awful smile on Solas’s face as the demon hugged itself and rocked back and forth, eyes unblinking and trained on the wolf.

“I will destroy you if I must,” the wolf with Solas’s voice warned, tone deadly. Lyna stared at it, as tall at the shoulder as she was with front legs more like a bear’s than a wolf’s, built to tear at its prey once it ran it down. Its black fur curled like smoke, ever changing and haunting. It was a monster to make battle-hardened warriors piss themselves with fear, yet Lyna was not afraid. It was a wolf with Solas’s voice in the Fade and the one thing she’d always been certain of while dreaming was when she saw Solas and when she saw a spirit. It was Solas who stood before her in the guise of a great beast and threatened the demon that would not leave her be.

“But why? Why destroy what you want to protect?” the demon asked, voice oily. Lyna felt it getting into her head, filling her mind. The demon wanted her. It wanted her to act, to persuade Solas to accept. She clutched her head.

“Solas! It’s… trying to… Solas, I can’t make it leave!” She would not obey! She would never submit to the mastery of another. The voice in her mind, slithering through her thoughts, only got louder as she struggled. The Dread Wolf turned his gaze to her and she was not certain if he saw what she was, bent over and clutching her head as she desperately tried to deny the demon, or if that was even what she was doing. She was afraid and she didn’t know what was happening anymore so she struggled to cling to the core of herself. “We are the last of the Elvhen and never again shall we submit!” She screamed the words of her people, clawing at the presence in her mind, attempting to throw it out.

The wolf leapt for the demon, enormous jaws closing around its form. It ripped and tore and shook the demon apart until only wisps of swirling green energy remained and then even those dissipated. As the demon was destroyed, so was its presence in her mind and she sank to her knees in relief, shaking and naked. Warm arms wrapped around her and she jerked, looking up into Solas’s face. She looked at all the little details in the shape of his face and recognized the man she loved in truth. She sighed, nearly sobbed, and leaned into his embrace. She felt clothing settle around her and realized that he was clothed as well, and she was oddly grateful. After such a scare, that tiny barrier made her feel worlds better.

“How did you know it was me?” Solas asked her softly after a while. She took a shaking breath to steady herself and looked up at him. She kissed him gently, her hands on his face.

“I always know it’s you,” she told him. “Even when you’re Fen’Harel, you’re still Solas and I will always know you.”

His expression softened and he all but melted around her as he pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair. “You are a treasure, vhenan,” he whispered there. “I apologize for being late.”

She sighed and held him as tightly as he held her. “It didn’t really get bad until you showed up, to be honest. It wasn’t trying to force me into anything, only to tempt me. I wouldn’t be tempted. A demon cannot give me what I want.”

He sighed. “At the risk of sounding like a demon myself, what do you want? If a demon cannot give it to you in one form or another, even for a fleeting moment…”

“I want what I have, Solas,” she told him, pulling back to look up at him with a smile. “I want you and our son and my clan and a home to call my own. I want hope for the future and the means to create it. It’s a journey, getting from where we are to the world we want to create, but I wouldn’t trade the journey for the destination. I want to take each step with you.”

Suddenly, Solas crushed her lips with his and she moaned into his touch. His hands tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck and held her head so that he could devour her. His tongue sought entry and was welcomed, sweeping across hers. The lingering chills of fear left her as his heat filled her. He kissed her like a drowning man taking a breath of air, like she was necessary to him. His hands cradled her face as he leaned over her, his body curled around her, and she felt protected and loved and needed.

When he finally released her she laid her head on his chest and smiled as he held her. “You are a treasure,” he whispered again. “How I ever expected to stay away… Ar lath ma, Lyna.”

“Ar lath ma,” she replied in a whisper. They were silent for a while, just holding each other. “So the Dread Wolf really is a wolf?” she asked at last. He chuckled lightly into her hair.

“I can take the form in waking, as well,” he murmured to her. “I did not intentionally hide this from you, it simply slipped my mind.”

“That giant wolf slipped your mind?” she asked him wryly, but she wasn’t upset. He huffed.

“It was not so uncommon, once,” he defended. “It is simply a form of magic that is lost to time. Even Tevinter never managed to appropriate it from the remnants of Elvhenan. The Wolf is both separate and a part of me, more than merely a form I can take. It has its own instincts and desires that interlock with my own, but only when I assume the form. The Wolf is me but I am not the Wolf. Does that make sense?”

“Not really, but it might when I wake up,” she told him, wrapping her arms tighter around him. He chuckled again.

“Would you like to visit more pleasant areas of the Fade until then?” he asked.

“Oh, yes please!” she said gratefully.

 

* * *

 

“You aren’t supposed to touch anything!” a woman’s voice yelled as the doors to the throne room were thrown open. Lyna looked up from her dinner, brows raised. She sat with Deshanna, Ashavise, Alifalon, and a few others of her clan, her son cradled in Deshanna’s arms and easy conversation flowing among them.

Three women entered, similar enough in appearance to make them close relatives. One was heavily armored, a broadsword sheathed across her back. She shoved another woman, who wore light chain mail over her dark tunic and breeches. They were followed by a third woman, dressed in studded leather and cloth, who was rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache. All three had tightly curling black hair and skin like ebony. The warrior had her hair cropped short, barely more than fuzz on her scalp, the one beside her had her hair in two tight braids, and the third had small braids tight on her scalp to keep it out of her face while the rest flowed free and wild.

“You know better than to touch shit like that!” the warrior continued, her accent Fereldan. The woman she shoved scowled and adjusted her grip on what looked like a small statue balanced on her hip, though its shape and purpose were unclear to Lyna from so far away. “You’re lucky it wasn’t warded!”

“I would have sensed wards, you half-wit!” came the bitter reply.

 _“I’m_ the half-wit? _You_ touched an ancient and powerful relic without consulting Fen’Harel first!”

“Enough!” The new voice belonged to Kahlia, striding in after the three women who could only be Tan’Adahla. Her face was closed, fury burning in her gaze, and her voice was commanding and powerful, more so than Lyna would have expected from such a woman. “The damage is done! Let it rest!” And then she stormed out of the throne room, Zevran hurrying to keep up. The Antivan elf looked unusually grim as he kept pace with his wife.

Solas entered behind them, looking weary and road-worn. Lyna leapt to her feet and ran to him, unmindful of their audience. He caught her up in his arms and held her close. He had kept his promise and visited her in her dreams each night, even destroying a desire demon that tried to tempt her, but she had missed him.

“Vhenan,” he whispered as he cradled her head with a hand and kissed her sweetly. She smiled against his mouth, lips sliding against his.

“I missed you,” she told him between kisses.

“I know,” he told her smugly, and she bit his lip. “I missed you, as well.”

“You’re both half-wits, and lucky that you didn’t destroy us all and the temple with us!” the third of the Three Trees cried, finally breaking up her sisters’ continuing argument, glaring at them. “Now stop bickering and go dispose of that properly!” She pointed at the relic her sister held. The two stomped off in the opposite direction that Kahlia and Zevran had gone, still arguing quietly. The one who remained sighed, shaking her head, and turned to Solas to bow low. “I apologize for my sisters, Fen’Harel,” she said softly. “I thought they knew better.”

Solas shook his head, not releasing his hold on Lyna, and she was content to remain in his arms. “The artifact is at fault, not your sisters,” he told the woman. “Its magic called to them and once it had they could not have fought it. Once it is destroyed its influence over them will end.” The woman turned to gaze worriedly at the hall her sisters had disappeared down.

“It’s still influencing them?” she asked, scowling.

“I have dulled its effects, but yes,” Solas told her. “They will likely be ill for a few days once freed from it. They will need you.” The woman nodded and trotted after her sisters.

“I take it that your mission was not a success,” Lyna murmured, watching the woman go. Solas sighed and ran his fingers through her hair, tightening his arms around her.

“No, it was not,” he admitted softly, then kissed her again. “I am glad to be home, regardless.”

Lyna smiled and let her hands drift up his neck to press her thumbs into the sensitive muscles behind his ears. They twitched a little and then his whole body relaxed against her and he smiled gratefully. “I’m glad you’re home, too.” She gestured around them. “Over three hundred came from Wycome,” she told him. “Alifalon was tearing her hair out trying to get them all settled, but she managed to find rooms for them all as they arrived over the past three weeks.” Solas raised his brows as he gazed at the much fuller room. A lot of people were staring at them and many were pretending not to.

“I suppose I will have to address them, then.” He smirked at her and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I’ll have to ravish you later,” he breathed, making her shiver. He released her but kept hold on her hand as he led her to the head of the room, stopping just before the throne and turning to address the room.

“Lethallen,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. All conversation ceased and all eyes turned to him. “Welcome. I understand that we have many new arrivals from Wycome and Clan Lavellan. It is my hope that you are all able to settle in here and feel welcome. If you have any concerns, I know that our Amelan, Alifalon, will be happy to help.” He inclined his head at the Keeper and she stood to bow to the room and identify herself before sitting again. “Sa’amal’uan is your home for as long as you desire,” Solas continued. “As such, I hope that you will help to maintain it. Whatever tasks you most enjoy you may work at. Alifalon and her staff will help you settle into your work. Any who wish to work as my agents across Thedas should present themselves to Himsulem.” A scarred man with ash blond hair stood briefly as Alifalon had. “I will speak to you each individually to asses where you may do the most good.”

An infant’s wail split the air and Lyna grimaced before hurrying to take her son from Deshanna. He cried harder and she knew what he wanted; he’d heard his father’s voice and demanded his father’s attention. The little boy had known him for only a few days and yet was already demanding his attention. Lyna returned to Solas where he stood at the head of the room and handed their son to him. He took the boy without hesitation and he immediately quieted and stuck the wolf’s jawbone in his mouth. Lyna shook her head at him and removed the bone. Solas held his son gently and smiled at the infant.

“I suppose,” Solas continued, addressing the hall again, “that now would be an appropriate time to introduce to you my intended, Lyna of Clan Lavellan.”

Lyna bit her lip and kept her head high. She’d known this was coming, their relationship far from secret, but she wasn’t quite prepared to hear the words spoken aloud. She felt her cheeks heat as she struggled not to duck her head in shyness. She’d never thought of herself as shy, but she’d also never been publically claimed as someone’s lover before. Whispers ran through the hall, those who didn’t know her yet surprised and questioning. Her clan looked pleased and Ashavise and Deshanna were glowing with pride.

“And this, of course, is our son,” Solas continued, and the whispers became outright cries of shock. Lyna shot Solas a look, disapproving of the inelegance of his announcement. He only smiled; he knew what he was doing.

She shook her head with a sigh and stepped forward to address the crowd. “I know many of you, have worked beside you these past three weeks,” she said, and the cries died down into expectant silence. “I hope to aid Solas, and all of you, in finding a way to restore our world to what it should be. I will work to make certain that each and every one of you is comfortable and fulfilled while we all work to make our dreams a reality.

“I do intend to marry Fen’Harel, it’s true.” Cries rang out again and she waited for them to die down. “I have a son with him, named Solas like his father. He was conceived while we both worked with the Inquisition to stop Corypheus from destroying the world we are attempting to restore. I hope that, in time, you will all come to accept me as you accept Fen’Harel.”

There was a short silence before applause spread through the room. Many of the people there had belonged to the Inquisition and knew what she had done. Her clan knew her and her deeds. She hoped the People would accept her because she had no intention of leaving Solas’s side.

“Return to your meals,” Solas said as the applause died down. He held out his hand to Lyna, his eyes full of the promise of what would happen if she took it. She smiled and slipped her palm into his, shivering at the heat of his gaze as he pulled towards the door that led to their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demons are fun! I need to do more with demons!
> 
> I do not have a whole lot to say about this chapter. Is that weird? I talk a lot, so I guess it's weird.
> 
> I love Ashavise and she's going to be a fixture in this story for a while!!


	15. Time Passes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

“I know, da’mi. I know. You don’t like it as much,” Lyna sympathized with her squalling son as she attempted to coerce him into eating the mashed carrot. “It’s not the same, but it’s time for you to get used to it.” He batted the spoon away again and Lyna sighed. She looked over her shoulder at Solas, who was watching her with rapt attention and a gentle smile rather than working on whatever he had in front of him on his desk. “Care to give it a try?” she asked. His smile widened and he approached, taking the spoon and bowl of orange glop from her.

“Come now, ma da’mi,” Solas cooed softly as he tried to get the spoon into his son’s mouth. “You will come to like it. Give it a try.” He managed to get the spoonful of goop into the child’s mouth, and little Solas complained for a moment before gumming it thoughtfully. “There, see? It’s not so bad.” When the little boy accepted a second spoonful, Lyna sighed gratefully and sank down on the bed.

“At least he listens to one of us,” she grumbled, rubbing at the tension in the back of her neck. Solas chuckled as he continued to feed his son.

“I managed to surprise him is all,” he told her soothingly. Lyna just smiled and watched the very messy infant accept the food hesitantly.

When their son was full and Solas had cleaned up, Lyna lifted him into her arms and started burping him. He pulled her hair where it had escaped from the tie and she sighed. He was likely never going to stop doing that and she’d resigned herself to her fate.

“Solas?” she asked as he sat back at his desk. He hummed affirmatively as he sorted through the papers. “You told me once that you walk the din’anshiral. That this path would lead to only death.” He stopped and slowly lowered the pages back onto his desk. “I’ve been here for six months and I haven’t seen anything like what you described.”

He sighed heavily. “Nor will you, not until we have found the means to tear down the Veil.”

“What do you mean?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Once I can tear down the Veil, the real work begins. I will have to destroy the Evanuris forever. The world will be changed irrevocably and magic will flow uninhibited. Spirits and demons alike will roam the waking world. The chaos will be unequaled.”

“You’re going to kill them? All the Creators?” Lyna asked, shocked.

“They are _not_ creators!” Solas snapped, though she could tell that his anger was not directed at her. “They claimed that title in order to rule over those they saw as lesser beings. They created nothing but despair!” Lyna approached him, cautious of his anger, and laid one hand gently on his shoulder.

“But Solas, they’ve been locked away for over three thousand years,” she reminded him. “Isn’t there a chance that it’s changed them?” Solas laughed bitterly, tense and brittle beneath her touch.

“I knew them each for a very long time,” he reminded her. “If they have changed, it is only because their anger has made them even crueler than before.”

“They were all like that?” Lyna asked. “They all sought only power? Did none of them try to help their people, as you did?”

“Mythal is gone,” he said, ancient fury dulled into the weight of exhaustion. “Whatever part of her remains is not truly her any longer.”

“No,” Lyna replied softly. “I know that. But none of the others could be redeemed?”

“Ghilan’nain was kind when she could be,” he admitted after a long silence, hesitation in every word. “She tempered Andruil’s madness. But even so, she could not be trusted.”

“And the others?”

“Falon’din and Dirthamen rejoiced in bloodshed. They craved worship, would kill to amass it. Elgar’nan’s cruelty knew no bounds. He tortured and killed innocents for the sheer joy of it.”

“What about June? And Sylaise?”

“June cared for little beyond his forge. Even his sisters could not hold his interest,” Solas told her. “Sylaise…” He paused. “I knew little of her despite the length of our acquaintance. She was something of an enigma, more so than the others. She was Mythal’s friend and she always seemed to be kind. She was not there when the others killed her. I never knew why.”

“Don’t you think that, maybe, after all this time, they deserve a chance?” Lyna asked him softly.

“A chance to do what? To destroy all that I have attempted to save?” He stood and paced to the windows. He watched the sun rise over the trees, his hands clasped behind him, tension in his shoulders.

“A chance to prove that they are not beyond hope,” Lyna whispered. He turned to her.

“You did not know them. You did not see what they did…” he breathed. His eyes were haunted with the horrors of the past, a dark weight in them. Lyna handed his son to him and the little boy reached up to hug his father, settling his face into his shoulder and burbling happily.

“Everyone deserves a chance, Solas,” she told him. “They have done horrible things, it’s true. But haven’t you, as well? Look at your son. He was conceived when I had no idea who you were, when I was fighting a would-be god that you had empowered. Corypheus and his people killed so many innocents. A lot of people suffered because of what you allowed to happen in your impatience.” Solas flinched but did not argue. “I suffered, too. What I went through in that fight, particularly in the beginning… I would not wish it on anyone. And yet here I am. I love you. Your son loves you. Your people love you. Everyone who lives at Sa’amal’uan loves you. We give you a chance to redeem yourself. Do the others not deserve the same?”

Finally, Solas met her eyes, guilt weighing him down. “I cannot trust them,” he admitted. She put her hand on his cheek and he leaned into her touch.

“I’m not asking you to,” she told him. “Bind their magic, do something to limit their power, but let them live. Let them prove themselves, if they can. Those who can’t should be destroyed. But they deserve no less than you, or any of us.”

He was silent for a long time, holding his son and looking at her, thoughts flashing behind his eyes. “Alright, vhenan. For you, I will do this. I will find a way.”

 

* * *

 

Lyna’s smile was peaceful as Solas’s hand ran gently along her bare side. Her eyes traced the planes of his face, every pore and freckle categorized lovingly. She reached a hand across the bed to him and let the tips of her fingers follow the path of her eyes. The blissful curve of his lips grew slightly and he kissed her fingers when they touched his lower lip. Her eyes were barely open, fatigue in every muscle, but she was by no means ready to sleep despite the moons shining bright overhead through the crystal ceiling. There was something so gentle in his eyes when he looked at her, drying sweat on their skin and sore muscles not yet ready to give up.

“Falling asleep, ma lath?” Solas murmured as his hand continued to glide over her skin so softly.

“Hardly,” she replied with a smile. He leaned forward and kissed her nose to make it wrinkle.

“Do not overtax yourself, vhenan,” he told her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she told him as she rolled her eyes, and his lips twitched. She took a deep breath and stretched, extending her arms over her head and rolling onto her back. She arched up to stretch her spine and extended her legs. When she looked at him again his eyes were dark and he sat up to lean over her. She blinked and realized she’d probably given him a show by stretching like that, but she was hardly disappointed by the result.

Solas bent over her and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then her chin, then nibbled his way down her neck to bite her collarbone. She sighed contentedly and let him do as he would, his fingers trailing down her sides to touch the softened white marks of pregnancy stretching her body. The skin was tight again, extra weight lost through exercise, but those marks remained and were lavished with attention at every opportunity. His tongue snaked between his lips to taste the skin between her breasts and she shivered. His hands cradled the pale globes of her breasts as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and moaned happily while she arched up for him.

“I missed these,” he murmured into her skin, thumbs caressing her gently.

“They’ve always been right there,” she reminded him wryly. He bit her nipple for her trouble and she squeaked as the sensation shot through her chest, making him chuckle.

“True, they did not simply walk off,” he admitted, “but I was not able to enjoy them as I had before when they were heavy with milk. I missed being able to do this…” He sucked her nipple into his mouth and teased it with teeth and tongue and suction until she grabbed his head and whimpered helplessly. When he released her at last he sighed against her skin and kissed the flesh he’d teased. “As beautiful as you were while feeding our son, I missed how sensitive you are and how I can make you weak for me with a touch.” His thumb swept across her other nipple and she gasped while he moaned low. “That’s it…” He busied his mouth with her breasts again and slipped a hand between her legs to tease at her sex. She was wet from all their previous bouts still and her wetness was renewed at his touch. He gathered the moisture on his finger and teased her clit with gentle touches until she whimpered for him and dug her nails into his shoulder.

“Solas…” She moaned his name and lifted her hips into his hand.

“Again, vhenan?” He chuckled. “You are insatiable.”

“As are you,” she retorted.

“So I am,” he murmured, then claimed her lips in a searing kiss. He pressed against her entrance and she cried out into his mouth when the head breached her flesh, stretching her around him. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and swallow her cries. Sore legs tried to wrap around his hips but protested, so he gripped her thighs strongly and helped her. His thrusts were slow, lazy, both of them tired and sore after hours of sex. His lips trailed down her jaw with suckling kisses and she opened herself to him willingly, her hands trailing across his shoulders.

With a bite on her neck he picked up speed, the sound of wet flesh smacking together echoing through the room with their moans and sighs. Heat suffused her and pleasure filled her but she didn’t think she had another orgasm in her. She’d lost count hours ago of how many he’d given her, many of them following on the heels of others, and she was more than content to receive him without chasing her own release.

He tasted the skin of her neck, marks from his teeth twinging delightfully under the touch to make her moan. One of his hands slipped between their bodies to play with her clit but it was sore, overused, and she caught his wrist. He slowed his rhythm, pulling back to look at her.

“Do you wish to stop?” he asked, fingers trailing down her cheek softly.

“No.” She shook her head and smiled at him, lifting her hips into his. “Pleasure is its own reward, vhenan. Keep going. Come for me and I will be satisfied.”

He shuddered against her, his eyes darkening until barely any blue showed at all. His hips resumed their steady pumping and he pressed a kiss to her lips. He buried his face in her hair and stayed there as he thrust. She was so warm, heat from his skin and the pleasure in her belly making her feel comfortable and safe. She was always safe with him. She held him close, arms around his neck, as his breath stuttered and his thrusts sped.

“Lyna… My Lyna, ma sa’lath…” Solas whispered her name over and over against her flesh until he groaned and buried himself deep as he spilled his seed. She gasped in pleasure as she felt it, his cock pulsing inside her as he came. Then he went limp all at once and she held him gently and he panted.

“Do you… need…” he began, sounding nearly asleep already.

“No, I am satisfied,” she told him. It was true, pleasure warming her bones and fatigue weighing her muscles, she was ready to curl up against him and sleep.

He nodded into her shoulder and rolled them without pulling out. She was glad, enjoying the pleasing heat of him inside her, and she had no desire to part. He gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest and she heard his breathing slow as he fell asleep like that. She smiled and pressed a kiss against his chest as she allowed herself to drift off to join him.

 

* * *

 

“That’s very good, my lady,” Himsulem told Lyna as she rubbed her shoulder and scowled at the target. She suppressed a snort and struggled not to roll her eyes at the man.

“From a standing position I can’t even hit the bull’s eye,” she reminded him, adjusting her grip on her new bow.

The elf smiled a little, bright blue eyes assessing the target. “You don’t miss by much, though. And from a much longer distance than most of my recruits.”

“One hundred yards is just over half of my useful fighting range,” she grumbled. “I used to be able to make that shot in my sleep.”

“Being out of practice is no crime,” he assured her, “especially since you were missing an arm.” She sighed.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She rubbed her face with a hand and grimaced at the leather guard on her fingers. Her gloves weren’t ready yet and she was getting frustrated with the pieces of leather strapped to her arm and fingers in their place.

He smiled patiently at her, the expression tugging the scar beside his mouth. “Try it again, my lady. You’re better with every shot.” Then he wandered away to check on his other charges, young men and women who wanted to learn how to fight or were training to join the agents of Fen’Harel. She nocked her arrow and payed close attention to her stance as she drew the string and shot, then smiled as her arrow met its mark.

 

* * *

 

“Solas!” He turned towards the doors to the main hall to see Lyna approaching at a trot, their son on her hip. He smiled to see her again in waking; he had been gone far longer than he had hoped.

She stopped a few paces away and he moved to close the distance, eager to touch her and feel her warm skin and loving embrace, but she stopped him with a gesture. “Wait, stay there,” she said, grinning excitedly. “I need to show you something.” She knelt and stood their son up on his feet. He stood on his own, as he had done before, and she gave him a little push. “Go on, da’mi. Show him!”

The boy toddled forward, unsteady on his feet but walking under his own power. Solas felt his jaw drop for a moment before he grinned and knelt as his son approached, then he swept the child up and tossed him in the air to the sound of his gleeful shrieks.

“Look at you!” he exclaimed, holding his son close in his arms. “Walking already?” He shook his head to see his son growing so fast, then turned to Lyna. She accepted his kiss eagerly, tugging slightly on his shoulder to get closer to him. He shivered under her touch, how much it meant to him that she never seemed to get enough of him, either.

“I missed you,” she murmured against his lips, and her love tingled across his skin, a magic of its own.

“I did not mean to be gone so long,” he told her regretfully.

“I know,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Come upstairs.”

“We can handle this, my lord,” Silvhen told Solas, smiling at his former clan mate and her family as he hefted his heavy pack, full of magical talismans. “We’ll let you know if there’s anything useful in here.”

“Thank you,” Solas said, and allowed himself to be led away, eager for Lyna’s passion.

 

* * *

 

Lyna finished dressing around Solas’s kisses. It was really distracting when he did that, and they’d already ended up back in bed twice because of it. She was tempted to allow him to drag her back again, but there was something important about to happen.

“Solas, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said. He only hummed and didn’t lift his head from her neck, scraping his teeth lightly across her skin. “Before they get-“

She was interrupted by warning bells ringing out across the palace. Instantly, Solas pulled away and began shrugging into his clothes. Lyna beat him to the door and was halfway down the stairs before he caught her.

“Vhenan, stay back!” he cried, hand firm on her elbow. “The bells mean intruders! I will not let you be hurt!”

“Solas, that’s what I was trying to tell you!” Lyna said, twisting out of his grip and continuing down. “I think this is who I’m expecting!”

“Expecting?” His question followed her but she ignored and sprinted through the throne room into the courtyard.

Two figures stood before the active eluvian and a guard was about to swing his blade. “Stop!” she cried from the doorway, still sprinting toward them. “Stop now!” The man hesitated, his swing arrested halfway through, and she knocked his blade away as she reached them, scowling. “So your response is ‘kill first, ask questions never?’ Disgraceful!” She turned to the pair who stood before the eluvian and let it go dark. They were unarmed, their hands spread out beside them, empty.

“It’s about time you showed up! They almost just killed my husband!” Hawke cried. Fenris had stashed her behind him, trying to protect her. She was trying to inch around him, trying to protect him. It was just like them.

“The guard rotated,” Lyna told them apologetically, glaring at the man who had almost delivered a killing blow. “I didn’t have time to explain to this pair yet.”

“Hmph,” Fenris responded, watching both guards carefully and struggling to keep Hawke behind him.

“What is this?” Solas asked, confused, as he joined them. His clothes were still rumpled from dressing so quickly and he smoothed his hands down them.

“I invited them,” Lyna told him. “I was trying to explain that when the bells rang. You were gone a long time and I thought I’d have time to explain before they arrived.”

“A-ah,” Solas stammered, struggling to catch up. He cleared his throat and addressed Hawke and Fenris. “Of course. Forgive me for not thinking of you sooner. Welcome to Sa’amal’uan.” The guards finally sheathed their blades, satisfied that there was no danger, and Lyna struggled against the urge to glare and lecture them.

“I’m sure they’ll be excellent agents,” Lyna told Solas, slipping her arm into his to keep herself close to him. “Aside from his many unique talents, Fenris is an incredibly strong and skilled warrior. Hawke is a fantastic mage with unusual talents since she learned outside of the circle. And they have contacts among the humans that we could take advantage of. You cannot truly expect us to remain hidden away here forever, can you?”

“No, you are correct,” Solas told her, smiling softly. “I am certain we could-“

Whatever else Solas was going to say was interrupted by Hawke suddenly throwing up all over the cobblestones. Fenris turned to her and held her head, smoothing back her dark hair as he did. He murmured soothingly to her, seeming unsurprised. When she was done, Hawke wiped her streaming eyes and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Morning sickness doesn’t strike in the morning, for the most part.”

“You’re pregnant?” Lyna asked, eyes wide. Hawke smiled a little and nodded. “Congratulations!” She resisted the urge to hug them both and instead offered a grin. Fenris even cracked a smile as he rubbed his wife’s back. Hawke set her vomit on fire to clean it up and the nearest guard gagged at the smell.

Lyna turned to him with a sharp gaze. “Go find Alifalon,” she told him. “We need to find them rooms.” He bowed and left quickly while the other guard returned to his post beside the doors into the palace.

“Sorry about the rude welcome,” she told her friends.

“Oh, I’ve had worse!” Hawke said flippantly. Fenris rolled his eyes and didn’t comment.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Lyna admitted. She gave Hawke a careful hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Lyna sighed and shifted slightly, watching the rain spark on the magic infused in the window above them with soft golden light. Solas pressed a kiss against her hair.

“Is something troubling you, vhenan?” he asked quietly, as though unwilling to disturb the peace of the moment. “Are you impatient for more?” She laughed lightly and turned to steal a quick kiss.

“I think I still need a few minutes before I’m ready for the next round,” she told him honestly. They’d been indulging in each other’s company all night long, naked limbs twined together. “Besides, I love it when it rains. Watching it fall onto the glass and pour down the sides is so relaxing.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, ever perceptive.

“I was just thinking,” Lyna said, not certain if she wanted to share these thoughts yet. Solas nuzzled her ear gently, demanding nothing but willing to listen. She sighed and allowed her musings to be voiced. “When the Veil falls, a lot of people will be hurt,” she said. He hummed affirmatively, though not without sorrow. “A lot of demons will attempt to wreak havoc. Magic will course through the world and the Chantry will fall to pieces. I guess I was wondering… if there’s some way to slow the transition.”

“Slow it?” Solas asked, sounding confused.

“Yes. I mean, I want the Veil to come down, I know that it has to, but there has to be a way to make it gentler.” She lifted herself up onto her elbows and looked down at him. He was frowning in thought, turning over the puzzle she presented in his mind. “The Veil will fall on its own eventually. Won’t it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It will not last forever. It is worn and ragged and it will fail someday, even without our help. But that would be uncontrolled, even more volatile than if I tear it down.”

“Well, since I know that there are ways to strengthen it, to make it last a little longer, then there must be ways to take it down slowly,” she said. “I think that spirits will suffer, to, if it suddenly disappears. Like with the rifts and the Breach, I fear that many would become demons in the shock of it all. Don’t you?”

“I… hadn’t considered that possibility,” Solas admitted. His brilliant mind was working furiously behind his eyes and she watched the thoughts flicker.

“The dwarves in Orzammar will likely be affected little. Most likely, they’ll look upon the change favorably if it destroys the darkspawn. They’ll be able to reclaim their lost empire, and I think they would be valuable allies.

“The humans won’t simply disappear. You told my mother and Deshanna that you intend to barter for the return of land and I like that option. But so many of them will be hurt. So will the surface dwarves and probably elves in alienages, as well. They will hate us, fear us, if we simply destroy their way of like and then demand the return of our lands. They would try to war with us, I think. Humans are so afraid of change, and without their Chantry and its teachings and support, I think their society might just crumble. I think it would make everything better, easier, if we do what we can to help them. If we ease the Veil down carefully, and then try to help the humans adjust to the change, don’t you think it might make it easier to rebuild our world?”

“I see your point,” Solas said, frowning. “Then we need to not only search for the means to tear down the Veil, but also research a way to do it gently. And we’ll have to come up with options for the humans, give them some sense of the control they will lose. We will have to offer them something to replace their Chantry, or some way to reorganize it to fit the new world.” He hummed, thinking, and Lyna loved the way he turned the problem over in his mind. She watched his thoughts shift and move and change behind his eyes, and listened to the pounding rain above them.

“I think we should create a council of some sort,” Lyna said after a few moments, and watched the idea take root in his mind. “People here with us who know different parts of the world well, the inner workings of the different countries, and can come up with ways to help them. There is such diversity here and I think we need to take advantage of it. We cannot solve every problem ourselves. We will never have all the answers. Sometimes, we will need to delegate. I think this is one of those times.”

Solas’s face relaxed into a tender smile. “You are far wiser than some of those who could live for eternity,” he told her, and kissed her nose. She wrinkled it at him but smiled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she teased. “But I try.

“Who would you suggest for this council?” he asked.

“Well, Hawke and Fenris, definitely. I invited them thinking that they would make good ambassadors, anyway. Zevran and Kahlia could be helpful, too, though I know they are field agents primarily. But Zevran has a deep understanding of Antiva as well as Ferelden, and Kahlia’s cynicism is useful, though I’d imagine it could get old. Still, she’ll keep everyone in perspective. I think some of my clan would be useful, as well. They know the Free Marches and lived in Wycome for a while in a successfully integrated society. Maybe someone who is married to a human would be good. And their spouse, too, I think. We have Orlesians here, I know, though I don’t know them well. We’d need a few. And Tevinter must be represented by someone else in addition to Fenris. He can give us valuable perspective from the viewpoint of a freed slave, but I’d like to have someone who can present a view from higher up, as well.”

Solas was looking at her with open awe. “You are incredible,” he murmured. “I had not even thought of this possibility, and you have it all planned out already.” She smiled, blushing at his praise.

“I guess my time as Inquisitor wasn’t wasted,” she mumbled. He laughed and drew her in for a kiss.

“To solve disputes and keep this council organized, would you be willing to lead it?” he asked her after a moment, his forehead pressed against hers and his breath tickling her lips. “Your insights would undoubtedly be invaluable to such an organization.”

“I suppose I could be convinced to help out,” Lyna said, tilting her head to steal a kiss and then trail slow kisses along his neck and collarbone. Solas chuckled, and then they focused on each other’s pleasure again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, have I ever mentioned how dumb I think it is that society as a whole tends to act like the objective of sex is orgasm? I strongly disagree with that sentiment. The objective of sex is pleasure. Or procreation, but let's just focus on fornication for now. The mindset that you've failed at sex if you or your partner didn't achieve orgasm is ridiculous and damaging, particularly to young people. If you're having sex, the goal should be to just have fun, you know? That's why I really wanted to illustrate how, despite the insane amount sex Lyna and Solas have that often ends in orgasm because Lyna is just like that, it didn't lessen the pleasure of sex for her not to come. She really was perfectly happy without orgasm and that's something I think a lot of people need to realize. Fornication is about pleasure, which may or may not include orgasm. End rant.
> 
> Right, so a fair amount of time passed in this chapter and it's much longer than it was before because I added three new snippets and lengthened the existing ones. I think it does a better job than before of illustrating the passing of time and what was accomplished during that time. Thoughts?
> 
> Lyna's council idea was something I didn't explore much in the first version and probably won't get to much in this version, either. I am, however, hoping to do more with it. The sequel is where that idea really comes into play.


	16. Search

“But you’ve only been back for two days! You’re not really leaving again!” Lyna cried, pacing furiously.

“I have to, vhenan,” Solas told her, watching her pace from where he stood before the fireplace.

“Why? Send someone else!” She wasn’t ready to say goodbye again for weeks or even months at a time and Solas couldn’t say the prospect delighted him, either. Yet he knew that it was necessary and Lyna would understand that once she calmed enough to listen.

“I can’t,” Solas told her, his tone pained. “The area is dangerous and the talisman is one of Mythal’s. Her magic is always unfriendly to strangers. I have to go.” Lyna stomped her foot.

“Why can’t it wait just a little while?” she asked, striding to him and grabbing hold of the front of his shirt as though that would make him stay. Solas could only be grateful that their son was with his grandmothers for the evening. Children should never have to see their parents fight. “You were gone for a month! You’ve been back for _two days!_ This artifact has been waiting for centuries. Surely it can wait a few weeks longer!”

“It cannot!” He hated to see her upset, but she knew what needed to be done as well as he did. “The talisman will only be active for a short while. If this window closes, I do not know that it can be opened again. That temple may be sealed forever if I do not go now.”

She was silent, her hands sliding from him, and she refused to meet his gaze. When he curled a gentle finger under her chin, she didn’t resist. The slow tears that were dripping silently down her face were like daggers in his chest. Her pain hurt him, but there was nothing he could do. He had to go and she had to stay. The People needed a leader in his absence and they trusted her. She was still relearning to wield a bow after her time with only one arm and she wasn’t strong enough yet for him to be willing to bring her.

“I will see you every night in the Fade,” he reminded her softly.

“It’s not the same,” she whispered.

“I know. But it _is_ better than nothing.” She accepted his kiss but didn’t leap to his touch like she usually did. Her lips were soft and sweet and yielding, but returned nothing.

“Let me come with you,” she begged when he pulled away. Her violet eyes glowed with the depth of her emotion and her longing to be close to him. “Solas can stay with my mother and Deshanna. He’s fully weaned from breastmilk now. There’s no reason he can’t stay here without me. I’ve hardly seen you in all this time that I’ve been here. Let me come with you. Let me help.”

“Are you able to wield a bow as you once did?” Solas asked, knowing the answer even before her face fell. She knew her combat skills weren’t up to the task yet and her muscles still struggled to remember what they once did effortlessly. He couldn’t put her at risk like that, not yet, perhaps not ever.

“Fine,” she spat, anger hardening her voice, “but you will not leave again for at least a month once you return. If I have to tie you to the bed to keep you here, I will.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, though it earned him a hard glare.

“That sounds like an interesting night,” he told her with a smirk. She smacked his chest and he only laughed again.

“I mean it,” she insisted, her eyes still gleaming.

“I know you do,” he soothed, stroking her cheek gently. “Come to bed, my love. We have tonight together before I must leave.”

She glared at him a moment longer, but returned his kiss when he leaned in. She couldn’t stay angry for long when he offered intimacy and he would take full advantage of that fact tonight.

 

* * *

 

Lyna paced the Fade alone. Joy had been driven away by her worry and Cole was nowhere to be found at the moment. Solas had been gone for two weeks and had visited her every night, as promised, as he always did. But she hadn’t seen him in three days now and it was beginning to frighten her. He had never been gone without word for so long. Yesterday, she had attempted to communicate with him using the crystals that all agents carried, but no one answered. It might have been possible that he was too far away for the connection between crystals to be stable or perhaps she’d tried to call when he was sleeping or busy, but that didn’t comfort her. She tried to remind herself that Kahlia and Zevran were with him, along with Tan’Adahla, and he should have been safe enough, but it didn’t ease her worry over his absence. It was so unlike him to vanish like that.

She scrubbed her face with her hands and forced her pacing to halt. She sat, a chair rising to meet her as she did, and took a deep breath. The spirit of Worry that had been hovering at the periphery of her vision left as she forced herself to calm and think of other things.

She had been making progress assembling the council that she and Solas had spoken of just before he left. She tried to focus on that. Hawke and Fenris had agreed to be on it, as had Deshanna and Ashavise. The Keeper of Lavellan and her First were relieved to have something more difficult to work on than the chores they’d been assigned and Lyna was glad to have their experience. She’d approached one of the elves from Wycome’s alienage and her husband, the two who had greeted her and Solas when they went to extend their invitation to Clan Lavellan. They had accepted, though they weren’t sure what help they would be. The elven woman had said that she had little education and her human husband had disparaged his own intelligence, but Lyna wanted the views of people from an alienage on her council. The two had agreed to try and had decided to begin their education on the ways of the world. She was proud of them.

She was having trouble deciding who to approach from Orlais, beyond the one elf who had chosen their cause over Briala’s. Lyna had met the woman at the Winter Palace when she saved Celene’s life and restored her relationship with Briala. The elf had joined the Inquisition because Briala didn’t protect her agents well enough and had come to Sa’amal’uan with the other elves from the Inquisition. She had been a bit reluctant to return to politics in any way, but had agreed when Lyna stressed how important her insight could be.

Lyna rubbed her forehead, leaning her elbows on her knees, and groaned. She couldn’t focus on the council when she was so worried about Solas and she was giving herself a headache trying.

“Vhenan.” Lyna gasped and jumped to her feet. Solas stood just before her, a small, apologetic smile on his face, and she rushed into his arms.

“Where have you been?” she cried, holding him tightly in her relief. “I was so worried that something had happened!”

“Something has happened,” Solas told her, returning her embrace briefly. She pulled back, frowning, and then noticed the changes. His form was oddly thin, malnourished more than would be physically possible. His eyes were dark and gaunt, his lips dry and chapped, and she knew it was a reflection of his mental state, not his physical form.

“What’s happened?” Lyna asked, worry flooding her all over again. “Where are you?”

“My captors don’t allow me much sleep,” he snarled, “or I would have come to you sooner. They are Venatori agents, or they were. They are seeking a way to restore their former master. They happened to find us at the ruins and they had some way to neutralize magic, even mine. We were all rendered helpless quickly and rather than kill us they captured us. I do not know where the others are. We’ve been separated since we arrived at their stronghold. I need your help. I cannot get free on my own.”

“Where are you? How do I get there?” Lyna asked, her mind already working through what she needed to do. She would ask Fenris to accompany her. She couldn’t ask Hawke. The woman was pregnant and her morning sickness interrupted basic chores; she couldn’t fight. She’d get some of her clan to come and some former Inquisition agents. She wanted to bring people she knew and could work with easily, people whose strengths would complement each other. She hoped her armor was ready at last.

“Here,” Solas said. He took her face between his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. In that touch, he gave her the information she needed. He gave her the path to the eluvian that would bring her closes to him, all his steps to retrace, everything he knew about where he was and the people who held him. She gasped at the sudden flow of information.

“I will come for you,” she vowed as the flood in her mind ceased. “I will get you all out safely.”

“I know you will, my heart,” he said with a small smile. “Be careful, bring help. Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

“I love you, Solas,” she reminded him. “Never doubt that. I will see you soon.” He jerked and disappeared, no doubt woken by his captors. Lyna clenched her fists. She knew what had to be done, so she woke herself to begin.

 

* * *

 

“My lady!” a voice cried from behind Lyna, back the way she’d come. The accent was Dalish and Marcher, but not Lavellan. Lyna almost ignored it in favor of her rush to leave. “My lady!” the cry came again. Lyna stopped and turned. The elf who was sprinting to catch up as she and her small group headed for the eluvian was slender, even for their kind, with short, dark hair braided away from her face and large green eyes. She looked oddly young and innocent with her narrow features, but a mage’s staff was strapped to her back and her armor was well-worn and cared for.

“What is it?” Lyna asked, in too much of a hurry to be polite.

“I want to come with you!” the mage said frantically as she caught up. “I know you’re already leaving, but I packed a bag before catching up to you. I’m not a healer, but I’m good with fire and nature. And I need to be there. Mahariel is my friend. She’d do the same for me. She has, in fact. I’m babbling, sorry.” The words poured out of the girl almost too fast to follow, but Lyna somehow managed it around the turmoil in her mind and heart.

“Mahariel…” Lyna mused, trying to understand. “You mean Kahlia?” she asked.

“Yes,” the elf told her, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her nervous excitement. “The clan knew her as Mahariel because of her mother. She was the spitting image of her deceased mother for so long that we never really called her anything else. She never really minded. I need to shut up.”

“You’re part of her clan?” Lyna asked, still struggling to understand the girl’s babble and constant self-censoring.

“Yes, I am. Or I was. I’m not anymore. In fact, they’d probably kill me if they saw me,” the girl said, her face flushing.

“What’s your name?” Lyna asked her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! My name is Merrill,” she exclaimed.

“I’ve heard about you,” Lyna said. “Hawke would tell me stories about you.”

“Hawke?” the girl asked, startled. “Oh, I haven’t seen her yet! I know she arrived a couple weeks ago with Fenris, but I’ve been so busy with my work. Anyway, that’s not the point. I need to go with you. I need to help Mahariel any way I can.”

“Hello, Merrill,” Fenris said from his position off to the side of their group, sounding displeased but resigned.

“Oh, there you are!” Merrill said excitedly, seeming not to notice his tone. “I didn’t see you there.”

Lyna eyed the bag slung over Merrill’s shoulder. “Have you done any field work before?” she asked. “Hawke said you always stayed in or near Kirkwall when you traveled with her and I don’t know much about Clan Sabrae and their habits.”

“Oh, yes, we did stay near Kirkwall and I was First to my clan when I was with them so I never strayed far from camp. But since coming to Sa’amal’uan I’ve done a fair bit of field work,” Merrill said, rushing to get all the words out as quickly as possible. Her pronunciation of the palace’s name was slightly off, as Lyna’s pronunciation of Elvhen sometimes still was. “I also stay far away from demons now, in case Hawke told you about my mistakes. But really, I know better now. I’m not a danger to anyone. Except for the people I should be a danger to, the ones who try to hurt us and all. Stop babbling, Merrill.” She muttered the last sentence to herself. Lyna slanted a look at Fenris and he shrugged.

“Alright,” Lyna said, unwilling to delay longer. “Come on, then. We have a long way to go.” She turned and started back toward the eluvian. “Merrill, this is Laduma, our healer from Lavellan.” The blonde-haired stork of a woman inclined her head. “And her brother, Lahnehn.” The blond man with the twin daggers on his back nodded. “That’s Marin, Datishan, and Telahn. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten where you’re from.”

Marin giggled, which seemed wildly inappropriate for the circumstances to Lyna. “I’m from all over Ferelden, an alienage-hopper. I worked for the Inquisition for a while. Datishan and Telahn are just barely Orlesian and also from the Inquisition.”

“How can you be just barely Orlesian?” Merrill asked curiously as they stepped through the eluvian into the Crossroads. Lyna had chosen her companions, besides Fenris, from the Agents of Fen’Harel who had been awaiting new assignments at the palace and none of them seemed bothered by the strange quality of the air between worlds, which Lyna took as a sign of their experience with it.

“It means that we lived in the foothills of the Frostbacks,” Datishan told her, his Orlesian accent mostly muffled behind his Fereldan preference for shaping his vowels. “A few more miles east and we would have been in Ferelden.” Telahn nodded, smiling cheerfully. “The village we’re from is so small it isn’t even marked on most maps. We were servants at a vacation estate for some stuffy Orlesian noble who wasn’t too proud to have a vacation estate near the Ferelden border.”

“But that doesn’t even matter anymore,” Marin said cheerfully as Lyna led them through the winding paths of the Crossroads. Even though she’d never walked this path, she was certain of her steps, the information Solas had planted in her mind solid and sure. “We’re all Elvhen now. Where we used to be from is irrelevant.” She grinned cheerfully, tucking her ditchwater blonde hair behind her ear where it had escaped from its ties. Telahn laughed silently as he tugged on her hair playfully to make her swat at him, the sound of air hissing through his teeth the only sign that it was laughter.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Merrill asked Telahn curiously.

“No, he doesn’t,” Datishan answered. “He was rendered mute by a childhood illness. He almost died because our master didn’t care enough to get him a remedy. His other senses were unaffected, though.” The older elf’s mouth was twisted into a grimace and he plucked the string of his bow in irritation. Telahn put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and once Datishan looked at him he wove his hands into intricate patterns in the air before him.

“I know that,” Datishan said in response, scowling. “The stupid bastard didn’t pay you enough to buy your own medicine so he damn well should have sprung for some. I mean, how hard would that be? He had enough money for those fucking ruffles.” Telahn laughed again.

“This is the one,” Lyna said, stopping before the eluvian that would bring them the closest to where Solas was supposed to be. Gently, she touched the glass and it lit up brightly, reflecting the scene beyond it. All she could make out through it was a large room with stone walls and dim light. Lyna and Datishan put arrows to their bows, Telahn and Fenris drew their battle axes, Lahnehn and Marin readied their daggers, and Laduma and Merrill gripped their staves. They would be prepared if there was an ambush waiting.

“Quick warning before we step through,” Datishan said right as Lyna was about to breach the surface of the eluvian. “One of Telahn’s tactics for drawing attention and distracting enemies is to whistle really loudly. It makes up for not having a voice to shout with and it’s loud and piercing and if you’re not expecting it then you might lose an ear drum. Okay, public service announcement over. Let’s go.” Telahn laughed silently and Lyna spared a moment to glare about the timing of the warning, then stepped through with the others right on her heels.

Though it had been just after dawn when they left, it was still dark when they exited the eluvian. The overgrown, ruined temple they found waiting for them was completely empty, deserted as if no one had set foot there in a thousand years. There was only the light of the eluvian to see by, but as Laduma closed their door behind them they were thrown into near pitch darkness. They all stood silently for a few moments, using their ears to follow the sounds around them more than their eyes. There was nothing but the soft whisper of a cold breeze through the foliage and the rustling of small animals in the brush.

“I’m going to cast a light,” Merrill whispered. Slowly, a soft yellow glow suffused the area, radiating out from Merrill’s staff. It built in brightness until they could see the area around them but stayed dim enough so that it wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention to them.

“Is this… an oasis?” Marin asked in a whisper, staring up at the fanned leaves and the tall, tiered trunks of the trees.

“Yes,” Lyna whispered. Though clearly no one was around they all spoke softly on instinct. “I forgot to mention that. Sorry. We’ll be traveling through the desert. The ruins Solas and the others went to were half buried under the sand.”

“Great,” Lahnehn muttered. “I hate the fucking desert.”

“You could still go home,” his sister teased. He merely grunted.

Finally, Lyna spotted Solas’s trail marker. The blue glow of his thumbprint on a nearby tree was almost too dim to see, but it was there. “This way,” Lyna said, heading past the marked tree.

The temple they traveled through was almost labyrinthine and had crumbled until many passages were blocked off. The dark stone was eroded by the wind and sand, bleached nearly white by the sun where it had stood the test of time for centuries, with newer collapses obvious by the dark, jagged rubble around them. The softly glowing trail markers were confusing, the layout of the building not aiding them in finding the path they needed to follow. If not for the markers Solas had left they would have been lost in moments.

As the sun slowly rose over the desert, the markers were even harder to spot. They made two wrong turns as dawn washed the color out of the glowing prints. The sun had fully risen over the horizon before they finally made their way out of the temple. As they passed the babbling pool of water that fed the foliage, they each took a long drink and topped off their canteens. The mages froze everyone’s sweat to help keep them cool as they journeyed; overheating would slow their progress drastically.

As they journeyed into the open desert, the trail markers were easier to find. In the light of day, the blue glow was easier to see. Solas took special care to make it clear which direction to go. The boulders that rose out of the sand like whales cresting over waves of water were few enough and far enough between that he had to make certain his markers were clear to those who knew where to look.

“Bless that ever-cautious man,” Lyna muttered as she noted a particularly well-marked sign that showed them it was time to turn sharply west on the trail.

“You’d never know these were here if you weren’t looking for them,” Merrill observed, examining the marker as they passed, breaking the silence of the morning.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Datishan told her wryly.

“Oh, of course,” she exclaimed, scratching her head. She was a nervous sort, even more than Hawke had described. Perhaps it was simply the nature of the mission, though Lyna couldn’t help but notice that Fenris was trailing behind the group, his eyes watching Merrill more than their surroundings.

As their group stopped for a rest and a quick lunch, Laduma spoke up. “So you knew Banal’Halam?” she asked Merrill curiously. “Before all the scars, I mean.”

“I knew Mahariel,” Merrill replied. “Or Kahlia, rather,” she corrected quickly. “She was a hunter for my clan. She was my friend. She was one of only a few people who weren’t… frightened of me.” Her eyes flicked to Fenris and then away.

“Why would anyone be frightened of you?” Lahnehn asked, eyes wide in shock. Fenris scoffed, but didn’t comment.

“Oh, well, you know,” Merrill deflecting, looking away. “I’m a mage,” she said slowly. “I was First to my clan. That always set me apart.”

Laduma started laughing. It was a slightly hysterical sort of laugh, barely a step away from weeping, but she was laughing. Lyna smiled slyly at her as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

“What?” Merrill asked, started. “What did I say?”

“Let’s get moving again and I’ll explain,” Lyna said. They all picked themselves up off the trail-marked slab of rock they’d been resting on and continued trudging through the sand after the mages froze their sweat again. Lyna worried briefly that she was pushing them too hard through the scorching sand, but none of them complained.

“Can I tell it?” Laduma asked gleefully. “Can I, Lyna?” Lyna couldn’t help but chuckle as Lahnehn shook his head with a tolerant smile.

“Sure,” she allowed. “You know them a bit better these days anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” Laduma said quickly. “She’s still your mother, your Keeper. I’ll never know them as well as you do.”

“But you have certainly spent more time with them than I have the past few years,” Lyna said.

“Stop arguing, asa’ma’lin,” Lahnehn said, ruffling Laduma’s hair affectionately despite her indignant squawk. “Just tell the story.”

“You’re no fun, isa’ma’lin,” she complained, pouting. Lyna just shook her head, trying to fan herself with her shirt by pulling the sodden material away from her sticky skin and waving it about. She hated the desert, too. All the leather piece of her armor were still in her pack and would remain there until they were nearly at their destination since she didn’t feel like roasting alive. If her estimation of their pace was accurate, they’d need to camp for a few hours and spend another half day hiking before they reached the ruins that had been Solas’s initial destination. From there, she had to search about for any clues to the direction the group had been taken and attempt to follow a nearly week-old trail to find them through her least favorite type of terrain. Hopefully, Solas had managed to somehow leave a trail marker even with his magic bound.

“Fine, then,” Laduma said finally. “The reason I thought your comment was funny, Merrill, is because that is absolutely not the case in Lavellan. Our First is honored and well-loved. They always have been. Sure, they don’t spend as much time with the hunters, but they’re always just as central to the clan as the Keeper. Our First looks after children, teaches the old songs, and shares dances around the fire at night.”

“I did that, too,” Merrill protested. “But my clam always treated me as somewhat separate no matter how much I tried to be a part of them.”

“Well, we never had that problem,” Laduma said. “Especially not with Keeper Deshanna and Ashavise as our First. Ashavise is quite a bit older than most Firsts would be, but she keeps the title even though most clans would give it to someone younger once it was clear that Ashavise had mastered her gift and the Keeper is still in good health.”

“Then why don’t you?” Merrill asked. Laduma smiled as she was asked the right question.

“Well, it’s mostly just a title of respect. If Deshanna were to die suddenly, our Second would take over as Keeper,” Laduma told her. Merrill frowned in confusion and Lyna could see the others listening attentively, though Lahnehn was smirking. “Ashavise would be far too grief-stricken over the loss of her falon’saota to lead the clan.”

Merrill gasped loudly, only to be shushed by Datishan. “They’re married?” she asked in a shrill whisper. Even Lyna couldn’t help but chuckle at Merrill’s excitement. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, her mouth slightly open as she gaped at Laduma and Lyna in turns. Telahn tapped Datishan’s shoulder, then made those odd swooping gestures that were his only form of communication when he didn’t have a pad of paper and a stick of charcoal handy. Datishan smothered a laugh.

“Telahn says that you look like a calf with your mouth hanging open like that,” Datishan told Merrill, and Telahn promptly smacked him and gestured agitatedly, no doubt scolding Datishan for translating that while Marin struggled not to double over in laughter. Merrill closed her mouth with a snap.

“But wait,” Marin said when she had her breath back, frowning. “I thought Ashavise was your mother, my lady?” The question was directed at Lyna.

“She is,” Lyna confirmed. “But my father died when I was twelve. Deshanna and my mother were always close. They learned magic together as the previous Keeper’s First and Second, grew up side by side even though Deshanna is thirteen years older. About eight years after my father died, my mother and Deshanna began a romantic relationship.”

“The potential was always there, of course,” Laduma said, picking the story back up. “There was always that seed of love waiting to be watered. It wasn’t until Ashavise had fully mourned for Fen’an that they were able to let their love blossom.”

“They were married when I was twenty-two,” Lyna added. “It was a lovely ceremony. Some of my cousins and my father’s brothers came to the clan to witness. We moved the clan near Ostwick so my mother could invite them.”

“Your father was a city elf?” Merrill asked. If her eyes got much wider, Lyna was fairly certain they would simply fall out of her skull.

The others laughed, no doubt having the same thought. “Fen’an was born in Ostwick, but he ran away to the clan when he was fourteen after he got caught steal to feed his family,” Lahnehn told the curious mage. “My parents used to talk about how he and Ashavise fell in love within the month.”

Lyna snorted. “That is utterly false,” she told them, trailing her fingers over the next trail marker and adjusting their course accordingly. “In fact, my father thought my mother was stuck up and insufferable for a long time and my mother was suspicious of him! He was seventeen and she was eighteen before they both relaxed enough to be friends. When my father earned his Vallaslin at nineteen, they were married within the month.”

“But I swear our parents said it was almost love at first sight!” Laduma protested.

“Your parents were telling tales,” Lyna told them.

“Told you so,” Lahnehn said, smirking. “Pay up!” Laduma grumbled and handed over a few silvers.

“You were betting on my parents?” Lyna asked, raising her brows at the exchange of coin.

“Of course not!” Laduma cried, looking genuinely aghast.

“We were betting on _our_ parents,” Lahnehn clarified with a grin. “I always told her that some of the things they said weren’t possible. She didn’t want to believe me.”

“We’ve had this bet going for about a decade now,” Laduma said. When they really got into it, the two of them finished other’s thoughts frequently. “I can’t believe I lost after all this time!” Lahnehn just laughed.

 

* * *

 

That night, the four women stuffed themselves into a tent meant for three. The men, in their own tent nearby, were no doubt perfectly comfortable and snoozing away without an unexpected addition. Lyna scowled up at the canvas just above her head, shifting her arm so her elbow wasn’t wedged into Merrill’s ribs.

“We should have brought another tent!” Marin whispered, shifting.

“I’m sorry,” Merrill lamented. “It’s my fault. I joined at the last second. Maybe I should sleep outside by the fire.”

“That’s not an option, Merrill,” Laduma said before Lyna could. “You’d freeze to death in this damned desert.”

“Wait, I think I have another inch I can scoot into,” Marin, tucked into the back corner, said. She shifted, which resulted in Laduma shifting to fill the gap she left. Lyna shifted over to make a little room for Merrill, and suddenly they could all breathe.

“Much better,” Laduma muttered.

“Sorry about that,” Marin murmured, already beginning to drift off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Merrill whispered in her singsong voice.

They all drifted off quickly after that while Lyna stared up at the canvas above them and worried about Solas. Was he alright? Were they hurting him? Torturing him? She had to get to him as soon as possible. She was concerned that her volunteer group wouldn’t be enough. If the Dread Wolf, Banal’Halam, and Tan’Adahla weren’t enough to annihilate their captors, how would the eight of them manage it? There hadn’t been time to assemble a proper siege.

Lyna frowned, turning over that thought. Why hadn’t there been time? She hadn’t thought about it before when she had other things to focus on, had simply followed the driving need to be on her way to Solas without question, but now she stopped to examine it properly. It had been more than simply her desire to see him safe and well; it was a compulsion, a driving instinct that went beyond worry for her lover. Had he planted it in her mind when he showed her where to look for him? He knew how much she hated the idea of having her choices, her mind, stolen from her and didn’t want to believe he were attempt to exert control over her like that, but it sounded like the only real explanation. She knew herself and she knew she should have planned better for this raid. But he hadn’t had the time to tell her much, had only been able to say that he needed her and show her where to look. He hadn’t wanted to tell her what they had been doing to him, but some sense of urgency, of time growing short, had slipped through with his instructions. Perhaps it hadn’t been on purpose, just that he didn’t have the time she would need to assemble a siege. And that thought was certain to chase away the sleep she so desperately needed. She went to relieve Fenris from his turn on watch, carefully stepping around her companions. She’d rather stare into the small, smokeless fire and listen to the night than be alone with her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, get enough Dalish together in a room and more Elvhen ends up thrown into conversation!  
> Translations:  
> asa'ma'lin/isa'ma'lin: sister/brother  
> falon'saota: spouse
> 
> Has anybody noticed that I don't really like using copious amounts of Elvhen in my writing? Even when people do speak Elvhen, I usually write it as English with the implication being that they are, in fact, speaking Elvhen. This is because I absolutely HATE when writers have so much of this other language in there that you literally can't understand parts of the piece until you read the translations. Like, okay, sure, your ability to translate into Elvhen is impressive. You know what would be even more impressive? If I could understand what you're trying to say anyway!! Like the way it's used in canon you can always understand intent. Even when Solas speaks Elvhen to Lavellan, you always know what he's trying to say even when you're not given a translation of any kind! I really think that's the way to do it...  
> *Ahem.* Anyway...
> 
> So linguistics rant aside, I didn't really change much in this chapter from the original. Just some details and the way Merrill talks and some weird out of character descriptions for Lyna. I sort of lost my perspective on her in this chapter before... It was weird.
> 
> I adore these side characters! Merrill is always fun to write and these other OCs are such a blast! I really do love them.
> 
> Suspense! Abduction! Intrigue! Well, I made it interesting, didn't I? I have plans for most of this. It gets bigger. ^.^


	17. Focus

They were moving again two hours before dawn. They’d eaten the leftovers of their dinner then quickly broken cam, scattering the ashes of their fire and covering the marks of their presence as much as they could. The sand and desert winds would do the rest.

Their morning’s trek was silent, Lyna’s mood likely getting to the others. She was impatient and irritable and restless. She needed to move, to find and save Solas with such a desperate urgency that it fouled her mood and made her snap at the others when they did speak to her. She’d probably feel bad about that later, but for now she could only focus on the way forward.

The ruins began as a wavering shadow on the horizon, slowly solidifying into a sprawling building of strange crystalline stone. It was the strangest looking temple Lyna had ever seen, broken spires reaching for the sun and a cavernous main structure with curved walls to form an imperfect dome. Seeing it, she couldn’t help but recall the way Solas had once described Arlathan.

 _“Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds,”_ he’d said. This wasn’t quite what she’d pictured, but it was ethereal and otherworldly all the same, glowing amidst the sands. Then she noticed that the doors, curved at the top and tall enough for an elephant to easily walk through, lay beside the entrance, seemingly ripped from their foot-tall hinges.

“Careful,” Lyna warned in a low tone, putting an arrow to her bow. “We don’t know what’s here.” The others readied their weapons as well, gazes turning from awe to caution.

Lyna stepped slowly past the doorway into the temple and was instantly taken from behind. Rather than letting the blade against her throat cut deep, she jammed her elbow into her attacker’s gut and heard his breath leave him in a rush. She twisted away and aimed her bow at him, though his blade pointed at her throat. They recognized each other before either could be wounded and weapons were quickly lowered.

“Shit!” she cried as she relaxed her bowstring. “Zevran?”

The elven man simply wheezed for a moment, still struggling to catch his breath after her elbow hit his solar plexus. When he was able to stand straight, he sheathed his daggers and said, “My apologies, I thought you were Venatori.”

“I thought that about you, too,” Lyna told him wryly. “Sorry about the hit… Reflex, you know.” Zevran inclined his head graciously.

“No foul,” he dismissed with a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” Lyna asked, putting her arrow back in her quiver. “I thought you were all captured.”

“Oh? And how would you know such a thing?” he asked her curiously, a touch of suspicion in his gaze.

“Solas found me in the Fade and told me,” she told him shortly, no patience left for this. She looked around the temple, what little she could see, but all she found was a lot of sand over worn stone tiles on the floor and nearly a dozen dead bodies in Venatori colors that littered the entrance and stank beyond belief after days in the desert.

“Oh, well that’s good,” Zevran replied, sounding like he’d just uttered the most ridiculous understatement. “Did you bring a healer? Kahlia is hurt.”

“I’m a healer,” Laduma said instantly, stepping forward. “Where is she?”

“This way,” Zevran said, relief softening the tense set of his shoulders as he led their group further into the temple. In a small, hidden room that had likely once been a closet lit only by a single torch and what sunlight filtered through the incredible crystal walls, Kahlia lay on the ground. Her breathing shuddered, labored, and she clutched a small knife against her chest. Her eyes were fever-bright as she watched the newcomers enter her hiding place, her grip on her knife tightening before she saw Zevran and her gaze fixed on him to the exclusion of all else. “I think she’s bleeding internally,” Zevran told them, his fear betrayed in his voice. “I cannot help her further.”

“Kahlia? My name is Laduma,” the healer said calmly, kneeling beside the injured woman. “I’m here to help you. Will you let me?” Kahlia nodded shortly, aware enough still to know what was happening. Laduma’s magic suffused the room and Zevran paced as he watched, agitated and worried.

“Tell me what happened,” Lyna said, breaking into Zevran’s worried reverie.

“About five days ago we were ambushed,” Zevran began promptly, his eyes still fixed on Kahlia as hers were on him. “I don’t know what they did, but none of the mages could cast any spells, not even Fen’Harel. And there were so many of them…” He shook his head at the memory, his pacing a little faster. “We were only six in number and they were dozens. We were unprepared for the attack, but it was like they knew we were here. We did what we could and took as many of them out as we could, but they just kept coming. Kahlia took two arrows to the leg and a massive blow to the chest. I dragged her away from the fight to protect her, but by the time I turned around only a moment later everyone was gone. I tried to follow them but it was clear they were heading out into the desert and I couldn’t leave Kahlia injured and alone. I don’t think any of our people died. Clearly, Fen’Harel is alive if he sent you here. I don’t know where they were taken, or why. But it was clear from the way they fought that they wanted prisoners, not corpses.”

“Did you see what direction they went?” Lyna asked, command in her voice and impatience in her limbs.

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “They headed south-east. I don’t know what’s there, but I doubt wherever they were headed is more than a day’s journey from here. They couldn’t possibly expect to keep three powerful mages and a very irate warrior subdued on the road much longer than that.”

“Good. Hopefully Solas found some way to leave clues for me,” Lyna said, turning her gaze to Kahlia and Laduma as she planned their next move. If they had a way to negate even Solas’s magic, it meant trouble. She’d seen him shake off a Templar’s smite as if it were a cloak, yet Zevran said that even his magic was rendered useless. Whatever the enemy had was more powerful than anything a Templar could call upon and not something she’d ever encountered before.

“Merrill, Laduma, can either of you fight with anything other than magic?” Lyna asked finally.

“I can,” Laduma said without pausing her healing spell. “With Lahnehn for a brother, I’m reasonably skilled with daggers. I’ve also endured a smite or two in my time and I know how to fight through it without my magic.”

“You can fight through a Templar’s smite?” Fenris asked, his eyes wide as his estimation of the skinny healer clearly went up a few notches. Laduma smile, her eyes still on her patient.

“It’s not the easiest thing, and if there had been more than two of them I wouldn’t have made it out on my own, I think,” she admitted. “But I can do it, and that’s the point.”

“Merrill?” Lyna asked, turning her gaze to the small mage kneeling on Kahlia’s other side but keeping her hands to herself.

“I’m a bit useless without my magic,” she admitted sheepishly. “And I’ve never fought through a smite. I don’t know that I could. I’ve never felt one. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Merrill. We didn’t know what we were getting into,” Lyna said, meaning it.

“If you stay with Kahlia,” Zevran interjected, pausing in his pacing to meet Merrill’s wide-eyed gaze, “I will take your place and fight to free the others.”

“Kahlia won’t be able to move for a while yet,” Laduma sighed, the light of her healing magic finally fading. “I’ve done what I can, but the internal damage is extensive. Ideally, I’d like her to receive multiple healings before trying to make it back to the eluvian.”

“I’m not the best healer,” Merrill said, “But I think I can manage to help her from here.”

Zevran turned to Lyna and asked, “Will you accept my services, then?”

She nodded. “Every blade counts,” she told him. He inclined his head.

“Merrill,” he said, voice suddenly dark and serious as he turned to the little mage who had once been Kahlia’s clan mate. “I am trusting Kahlia to you. I lost her once and I will not lose her again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Zev…” Kahlia groaned at him, her eyes clearer and her breathing easier after healing.

“Do I make myself clear?” Zevran asked again. The slender mage drew herself up proudly but did not seem angry.

“She will not come to harm with me,” Merrill declared. Kahlia sighed dramatically.

“Alright, everyone,” Lyna said, settling herself on the ground with her back against the wall. “Half an hour to rest, then we’re back on the move. Laduma, take a lyrium potion if you need to.”

“Ah, here,” Zevran offered, pulling one out of his belt. “I’m no mage, but I’ve found it’s always helpful to carry a few when traveling with mages.”

“Thanks,” Laduma said, startled. She drained the small phial quickly, then settled down on her back next to Kahlia with a sigh.

“Laduma, take my daggers,” Kahlia said after a few minutes while everyone rested and sipped from their canteens.

“Huh? Why?” the mage asked, surprised.

“I doubt yours will be of the same quality as mine,” Kahlia answered. “I want the others to come home safe, and so I offer the use of my weapons. I expect them back in decent condition when we all get home, though.”

“Oh, of course!” Laduma cried, accepting the offered weapons and running her fingers over the finely wrought handles almost reverently. “Thank you.” Kahlia nodded slightly.

“Get some rest, my love,” Zevran whispered to her, sitting cross-legged beside her. She took his hand and squeezed it.

“Come back safely,” she whispered back, her voice suspiciously thick though her expression remained blank. Lyna looked away to give them some semblance of privacy. Zevran leaned down to her and they murmured a conversation too low for the others to hear, though Laduma sported a growing blush from her position beside Kahlia.

Half an hour passed and Lyna stood. She stretched herself out, adjusting her sweat-stained clothes and reaching for her pack. “I want everyone in armor before we move out,” she announced as the others roused, digging out the rest of her armor and beginning to strap it on. It was of excellent quality, the blacksmiths at Sa’ama’uan were incredibly skilled. Over her thin cotton shirt and breeches, she pulled on the chain mail of nevarrite, made in the Elvhen style. Over that was the breast plate of ironbark that was covered with halla leather, which exceeded the length of the ironbark to drape down to her knees. Next she strapped on her vambraces of sturdy great bear hide, followed by the matching greaves that covered the tops of her feet and stretched up to mid-thigh, a strap reaching up to buckle into the bottom of her breast plate to help keep them in place. Her weapon belt of halla leather strapped over it all, fully stocked with throwing knives, healing potions, and a few poisons. She was only missing the traps she used to make, but she hadn’t had time yet to create any.

“I really hope we don’t die of heatstroke before we reach our destination,” Datishan muttered as he wiped sweat from his brow. The ever-cheerful Telahn just laughed at him, only to find himself sitting on his ass with a grave half-buckled when Datishan pushed him over. He stuck his tongue out at the other man and ended up getting it lightly bitten as Datishan kissed him. Lyna raised a brow at them while Marin giggled. She hadn’t realized they were together.

“Aww,” Merrill cooed, watching them. They separated, blushing furiously, and busied themselves with their armor. Once everyone was ready, Zevran kissed his wife deeply and everyone averted their gazes, heading for the temple entrance.

“Come home to me,” Kahlia whispered, holding his face as if she could hold him with her. Lyna recognized the gesture as one she had used many times before when Solas left her behind at Sa’amal’uan, a desperate and useless plea.

“Always, my love,” Zevran murmured, smiling gently at his wife. She attempted a smile for him but mostly failed, yet it made Zevran beam at her anyway. He kissed her palm as he drew it away from his face. Kahlia watched him leave the room, but he didn’t look back.

“Take care of him, my lady,” Kahlia whispered to Lyna. She nodded gravely, understanding the sentiment all too well. Then she turned to join the others waiting by the temple doors.

“They went this way,” Zevran said as she joined them.

“You’re certain?” Lyna asked, squinting against the sun in the direction he pointed. She didn’t see anything but the heat waves over the sand.

“Completely,” Zevran replied with conviction.

“Alright, then. Let’s see what we fine,” Lyna said, and they began their journey.

They walked for nearly an hour in the same direction when they passed yet another boulder, but this one was different. On the side, down near the sand, was an arrow pointing slightly further south scratched into the rock. Someone had found a way to give them directions as they passed. Lyna grinned fiercely as she adjusted their course accordingly.

An hour later, they found another slab of stone bearing an hour to point them in the right direction. After that, each hour found another trail marker left by Solas and Tan’Adahla, assuring them that they were heading in the right direction. The sun was sinking low in the sky by the time they spotted their destination on the horizon, all of them drenched with sweat and carefully rationing their water. The ruins seemed to be dwarven in origin, dark stone carved in angles and squared-off shapes. When they stopped at the final trail marker, they all rested and drank deeply from their canteens, praying for supplies to raid inside.

“It’ll be hard to sneak up on that,” Lahnehn observed, peering at the ruins.

“Then don’t,” Datishan said. “The stealth approach likely won’t get us far anyway. We need to kill them. All of them. Otherwise, they’ll always be a threat. If Lyna and I take out their watch guards from afar, that’ll get us in the door. From there, we cut down everyone in our path until we find the others.”

“That’s your plan?” Fenris demanded. “Unimpeded slaughter? What if they have traps set? What if the way to the prisoners is hidden? What then? Blindly forging in is reckless.”

“I agree,” Laduma said, eyes on the structure. “I know a spell. It’s not something they’re likely to have ever seen before since I sort of developed it myself. It will make their eyes slide right off us for a short time. If we hurry, we could get in, find where the others are being kept, assess the situation, and plan accordingly before we have to take a single life. Unfortunately, it’ll drain my mana almost completely to cast it on all of us. But the good news about draining my mana is that there will be nothing left for their smite or whatever it was to take, and that will make it easier to fight through.”

“How long can you hold the spell?” Lyna asked, considering. Laduma thought for a moment, tilting her head at her brother.

“You managed it for a solid hour that one time,” Lahnehn mused, but she shook her head.

“That was just the two of us,” she reminded him. “With four extra people… I’m not sure. Twenty minutes? That might be a bit generous. More than ten minutes, I can say that for certain.”

“Ten to twenty minutes…” Lyna repeated, considering the ruin before them. There was no telling how far it extended underground, but Zevran had said that dozens had descended upon the temple. There could have been hundreds of Venatori in there and they had no way to know unless they got inside. They’d have no way to address it without knowing what they were up against.

“Alright, Laduma. Let’s take out the watch guards silently, then you cast your spell and we see what we’re up against in there,” Lyna finally decided. Everyone nodded.

Lyna and Datishan shot their arrows at the same time and both watch guards fell silently, arrows buried deep in their throats. Hurrying up to the doors, they paused to let Laduma work her spell and make sure no one had heard the guards die. When Laduma nodded just after a wave of magic fell over them, Lyna took point and headed into the ruins, her bow at the ready with an arrow nocked.

The first passages they ghosted through were empty, but as they went deeper they began to hear the sounds of living beings. A couple, laughing as they flit into a side room, didn’t even notice the invading force. Lyna breathed a sigh of relief that Laduma’s spell worked so well. When she smelled cooking meat, she led the group towards it, hoping for a head count.

“… don’t like that one,” a voice said from inside what sounded like a crowded room. “He just takes the torture with a grin. It’s unnerving. I did guard duty during his lesson yesterday and he responded to every question by just spitting blood. Never made a sound.”

“That’s just creepy,” another voice replied. “At least those women scream, though they don’t do much else.”

“How do they scream?” a third voice asked, a disgusting excitement coloring his voice that shivered down Lyna’s spine and made her nauseous.

“Wonderfully,” the second man cooed, his voice low and husky. Lyna shuddered with hate and struggled to keep whatever was still in her stomach down.

A tap on her shoulder got her attention and she turned. Zevran pointed to the pot of almost-finished food in the center of the room, then held up a flash of poison. Lyna recognized the label: The Black Hand. Her brows rose in surprise. If he could get even a drop of it into the food, then the entire room full of people would be dead within minutes of eating. Judging by how many were there, it seemed like the bulk of them at least were there for dinner. It would make everything much easier if they could take out most of them without spilling blood like this, so she nodded her approval to Zevran. With a savage grin, he sauntered into the room, careful to avoid anyone who might accidentally brush up against him. With a fierce look, he returned and stashed the empty bottle in his pack. Those assholes wouldn’t know what hit them. She grinned and they continued through the ruin.

A sharp crack followed by a muffled scream drew them into a dark hallway that stank of death. Silently, Zevran and Lahnehn drew their daggers across the throats of the guards on either side of an armored door and lowered them to the floor. Carefully, Lyna opened it a crack and peeked inside, and what she saw made her stomach churn. Tan’Adahla were inside, all three of them, but only one was being worked over while the other two were forced to watch, struggling in vain against their racks.

“How do I get him to talk?” the torturer asked fiercely. The naked woman before him said nothing and his whip cracked across her. She tensed up and screamed while her sisters made muffled noises against their gags as Lyna withdrew.

“Tan’Adahla is in there,” she whispered to the others. “I don’t see Solas.”

“Likely Fen’Harel is being held elsewhere,” Zevran said. “They seemed to know who he was. After all, they had a way to negate his magic.” Lyna nodded, grim.

“Laduma, drop the spell,” she said. With a heavy sigh, the mage complied as she sank to her knees and reached for a lyrium potion. “Conserve your remaining mana and stay back for the moment; they’ll need healing. There are only three people in there, the torturer and two guards. We can take them out easily. Ready?” The other nodded and gripped their weapons.

Lyna threw open the door and the torturer went down with an arrow in his forehead barely a moment later. The guards were quicker to respond and one dropped to the floor while the other brought up a shield. He took Datishan’s arrow to the knee and dropped, only to be finished a moment later by Fenris’s axe being buried in his brain. The other guard fell quickly to Marin’s blades when he tried to sneak up on her.

“Marin, take up watch and send Laduma in,” Lyna said, strapping her bow across her back and taking out a dagger to cut the ropes binding the nearest trapped woman. A moment later Laduma was there, casting healing magic over the woman. Lyna tipped a healing potion down her throat while the others were freed and given healing potion as well. When Laduma started panting hard in her exhaustion Lyna uncorded another lyrium potion and tipped it into the mage’s mouth. She took it and smiled her gratitude without ever pausing her work.

“Zevran!” cried the woman who’d been receiving a lashing. Her voice was rough and weak from overuse. “How did you get her? I thought you were dead!”

“Oh, no, my dear,” the Antivan said, smiling gently as he carefully released her bonds. “Kahlia took a hard hit and I dragged her away from the fighting. Barely a moment later when I returned it was already over and you were gone. Oddly enough, they simply left me there. I suppose they got what they were after.”

“Who are they?” Lyna asked, breaking in. “Where is Solas?”

“They’re what remains of the Venatori,” the woman receiving healing said. “They think Fen’Harel can restore Corypheus.” Lyna sighed heavily as Solas’s suspicions were confirmed.

“And where is Solas?” she asked again.

“Don’t know,” the third woman said, her short hair a bloody mess as she scratched her head and attempted to sit up. “We were separated upon arrival. All we know is that he isn’t talking. They’ve spent the last two days trying to get us to tell them what his weaknesses are. Don’t worry, we didn’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Lyna said sincerely, bowing her head to them. “Fenris, Datishan, join Marin guarding the door. We’ll let Laduma do what she can to heal them, then I want you three to take Tan’Adahla and start the trek back to the temple. Zevran, Lahnehn, Telahn and I will find Solas.”

Once the first of the three had received her healing, she went to a pair of chests at the back of the room. From within, she drew out her chainmail outfit and began dressing. “With all due respect, my lady, we don’t need three guards,” she said. With a happy sigh, she found a pair of lyrium phials and drank one quickly. The other she took to her mage sister and tipped it into her mouth as she received her healing. Then she went to her other sister to begin healing the warrior.

“In fact, I think we can get ourselves out,” said the warrior, stretching under her sister’s magic.

“You’ve been under torture for nearly a week,” Zevran reminded them softly.

“But they never tortured us all at once. They made us take turns,” said the healer. “We’re actually not too bad off because of that.”

“Tell me you killed those you ran across, though?” the warrior asked hopefully. Her mage sister, still receiving her own healing, looked up with interest.

“We poured an entire bottle of The Black Hand into their dinner,” Lahnehn said. All three sisters grinned fiercely.

“Then everyone except whoever was assigned to Fen’Harel should be dead, unless they decided to change things up and assign a perimeter guard for once. Frankly, I doubt it. They were not expecting any opposition once they had us, I don’t think,” the healer said.

“Not quite,” Laduma reminded them. “There was that couple that seemed to forgo dinner in favor of each other’s company.” All three sisters made matching dismissive noises, though only the warrior accompanied it with a savage gesture.

“Even so,” Lyna said, “I won’t allow you to go alone. Marin will go with you, but the others will stay with us to find Solas.”

“Fair deal,” the warrior agreed, hopping to her feet and heading to dress. Her sister was healed shortly after and geared up.

“I think he’s deeper in the ruins,” the healer said. “I heard some guards complaining about his silence as they passed our cell.”

“Thank you,” Lyna told them. “Get out safely.” Laduma downed another lyrium potion and shook herself out, then they left the cell.

“Wait!” one of the sisters said quickly. Lyna turned back to listen.

“There are runes in the shackles and etched into the racks,” she said. “They halt magic as if it never was. It’s why we couldn’t free ourselves. He won’t be able to cast any spells until you free his bonds. I don’t know how they found this technique, but it’s very effective.” Lyna nodded her thanks as their group headed deeper into the ruins.

The deeper they went the darker it became. There was only one path to follow and the torches that lined the walls were spread out too far to properly light the area. The deep blue stone of the walls was carved intricately in the angular dwarven design that Lyna was familiar with after so long exploring ruins and the familiar short ceilings felt more oppressive than ever. Every room they passed they opened, but most were store rooms for supplies and odd artifacts, only some of which Lyna had ever seen before. When they found edible supplies they stocked up and refilled their canteens. In the armory they had to fight a group of five but they were surprised and unprepared and so the fight lasted barely a moment. While they were there, Lyna and Datishan restocked their quivers.

A few minutes of fruitless searching later, the group finally heard something up ahead. They hurried forward silently, following the slight noise, until they came to a hallway that branched off the main one. It was the first such branch they’d encountered in some time and they paused there to listen.

“I know that it’s possible!” an unfamiliar voice cried furiously. There was a moment of silence, then the smell of burning flesh wafted down the hall. Spurred to action by the realization that Solas must be down there, enduring torture silently, Lyna hurried forward. Silent arrows took out the two guards by the door before they had a chance to cry an alarm.

“Tell me how to bring Corypheus back! I know he’s trapped in the Fade and I need to know how to bring him back!” the torturer yelled. A meaty thwack followed a short silence, then another. Still, the prisoner made no noise. _Surely it must be Solas,_ Lyna thought as she dragged the dead guard away from the door so she could open it.

She threw open the cell door and took two steps in to allow the others to follow. Her arrow found the torturer and hit him in the shoulder as he was about to deliver a punishing blow to the naked elf on the rack before him. Lyna glanced at him long enough to confirm that it was Solas, then shot another arrow. She didn’t kill the torturer outright, but she did disable him with arrows to both shoulders. As she was about to shoot an arrow into his knee to complete his paralysis while her companions quickly felled the other four in the room, her focus trained on the bastard who dared to threaten and beat her heart, she felt the strangest push against her mind and body. Before she knew what was happening, she’d sheathed her bow, the readied arrow back in her quiver, and taken three steps back out into the hallway.

 _I know this compulsion,_ Lyna thought and fought it with all her strength. She managed to slow herself and when she met Solas’s eyes, glazed with pain though they seemed to bore right through her, the compulsion faded as if it had never been. She drew her weapon again and shot the torturer in the knee as he attempted to flee, then went to her love.

“Leave him alive,” Lyna called harshly to the others as Fenris moved to kill the man she had wounded. Keeping his great axe at the ready, he watched over their temporary prisoner. Lyna swiftly released Solas from his bindings, picking the locks on his metal shackles, as Laduma began her healing. The moment her magic touched Solas, however, she hissed and staggered. Zevran caught her before she fell and Lahnehn rushed to his sister.

“The rack,” she gasped. “It blocks magic. He needs to be off it before I can help him.”

Telahn traded places with Fenris, his sword at the torturer’s neck, so that Fenris and Datishan could work together to carefully lift Solas off the rack and place him on the ground. Solsa never made a sound, his eyes fixed, unblinking, on Lyna’s face. Laduma began her healing again, cautiously at first, but when there was no backlash she flooded him with magic.

“Solas?” Lyna whispered when he didn’t move or speak, kneeling beside him and reaching for a lyrium potion to give him. Finally, he blinked slowly.

“Lyna?” he rasped, his voice ragged and broken. “You’re here?” She smiled in relief and took his hand gently, but the grip he returned was alarmingly weak.

“I’m here, vhenan,” she assured him. “I’ve come for you.” His eyes closed in relief for a moment before he forced them open and stared into her eyes as though he needed to remind himself that she was real. She uncorked the phial of lyrium with her teeth and carefully tipped its contents into his mouth. He gasped in a quick breath once it was done.

Without warning, Solas’s magic flooded the room. To Lyna, it felt like a warm breeze, barely ruffling her hair, but Laduma was thrown back several feet and the others all staggered before righting themselves. Lahnehn rushed to his sister, but she waved him off. A moment later, Solas surged up to his knees and wrapped Lyna in a crushing hug. She grunted in surprise as his grip threatened to drive the air from her lungs and wrapped her arms around him in return. A few tears leaked slowly from her eyes, hot on her cheeks, and until that moment she hadn’t realized exactly how terrified she had been that she wouldn’t find him, or that she would be too late.

“I was so worried about you,” she whispered into his neck, clutching him as tightly as he held her and ignoring the stench of sweat and pain that clung to his skin though his wounds had closed. “I was so scared…”

“Shh, vhenan,” was all he said, but it was enough. He was there, solid and real and safe in her arms.

“We need to go,” Lahnehn said softly, “in case there’s anyone still alive down here. Though I sort of doubt it.”

With a shaking breath, Solas pulled away. Eyes averted, Telahn offered him the clothing he’d stripped off the least bloody dead man. With a nod of thanks, Solas pulled it on. The tunic was a bit too long though otherwise fit surprisingly well, but he had to cinch the pants around his waist quite a bit and roll up the hems. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, then pulled Lyna to her feet and crushed her into another hug, pressing his lips hard against hers. His skin was dry and cracked, a bit feverish, but almost impossibly comforting. When he withdrew he turned his attention to the only living enemy. He grabbed the man’s chin, ignoring his terrified squeak, and flooded the torturer with his magic. A moment later, he fell limp, his eyes open and glassy.

“I took what he knew from his mind,” Solas said. “We’re done here.” He wrapped his arm around Lyna as though he needed her touch and together they began the trek back into the desert. Instead of taking point as she had before, Lyna found herself surrounded by the others at the center of their circle, protected as she helped Solas to walk and gave him her canteen. They met no resistance as they left the ruins.

At the first of the trail markers back towards the temple, they found Marin and Tan’Adahla waiting for them, resting and huddled together for warmth. All four of them jumped to their feet when they saw the approaching group and drew their weapons, but they were quickly sheathed when they recognized their allies.

“My lord!” the mage who seemed to lead Tan’Adahla cried, stepping forward. “Are you alright?”

“Well enough,” Solas replied, tightening his arm around Lyna. “And you?” The three shrugged. Solas nodded.

“Let’s put as much distance between us and these ruins as we can,” Solas said. The others muttered their approval and they began the long trek back to the temple.

They didn’t stop to eat, just munched on whatever they had with them as they walked. It was too cold for anyone to want to stop when they didn’t dare make a fire. It was well past midnight by the time they made it back to the temple. Merrill was waiting, her staff at the ready, but she relaxed when she saw who was approaching. She threw herself into Zevran’s arms when they were close enough, surprising Lyna.

“I’m so glad you’re safe!” she cried as she tugged him into the temple to Kahlia. “She’s doing much better, come see! She’s sitting up under her own power and everything!” The others followed but Solas hesitated and Lyna looked at him curiously. He gave her a small smile.

“Would you like to see what I found here?” he asked her softly. Curious, she nodded and he took her hand to lead her deeper into the temple, past the small room where the others were huddled around a fire and teasing Zevran for the way he had immediately pulled Kahlia into his lap to kiss her. With a touch of magic, Solas opened a pair of massive doors at the other end of the temple. The room that was revealed was immense, towering out of sight high above them. Tables and altars lined the enormous area, topped with dust- and sand-covered artifacts, but Solas ignored them all. In the back corner, he dug through a pile of rubbish.

“I hid it when I heard the commotion and realized I couldn’t cast any magic,” he told her. “I couldn’t let them find it.” He turned towards her, having finally found whatever he’d hidden. In his hands was a very familiar round object, and Lyna gasped as her hand flew to her mouth.

“Mythal’s focus,” Solas said triumphantly, carefully cradling the slightly glowing orb. “The means to bring down the Veil, finally found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so! I honestly enjoyed writing this chapter. I enjoyed it the first time, I enjoyed it this time! That's part of why it got done so fast even though I've been working on writing commissions on tumblr! I like writing the combat and infiltration and such. I like writing calm and in command Lyna, firing off orders right and left and trying to take them down the safest path that will also end up with the highest body count for their enemies. They poisoned the dinner! Ah, classic...
> 
> Have I mentioned that I love Zev? Because he's great! He would absolutely carry lyrium just in case.
> 
> This chapter is so big! There's so much packed into it! And most of it has far-reaching consequences... Possibly reaching into the sequel, but still.


	18. A Rest

“This is Mythal’s temple?” Lyna asked a while later when the artifact was carefully stashed among their possessions with the others. They’d decided to catch a few hours of sleep before heading back to the eluvian, but Lyna had wanted to explore a little.

“Yes, it was,” Solas confirmed, following her as she explored the inner sanctum, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. She was careful not to touch anything; she’d learned her lesson about that and didn’t fancy losing her arm again.

Lyna bit her lip and took a breath, arguing with herself. Now was not the best time for questions, not when she’d only just gotten Solas back and they weren’t even home yet, but she needed answers. Finally, she sighed and gave in. “How is that you used the geas from the Well of Sorrows to influence me?” she asked, not looking at him. His steps halted and he was silent for a long moment. She stopped as well but she didn’t dare look at him so she focused on an odd little statue of a giant with obsidian chips for eyes and forced herself to wonder why it existed as she waited for his answer.

“I did not mean to,” he finally said, barely breathing the words. “When I saw you there… I know that it was I who called you, who gave you the means to find me, but I wanted you to be safe. Instinctively, I reached out to keep you back, away from the fight. Ir abelas. If I had been thinking, I never would have tried to influence you.”

“But how is it that you used Mythal’s power to do it?” Lyna asked again. She would not be dissuaded, especially in the face of his careful evasion. He was silent and she finally looked at him. He was gazing down and away, mouth turned down in the corners and brows drawn low. That guilt he showed told Lyna as much as his silence did and she felt her stomach churn.

“You killed her,” she said. She’d meant it to be a question but it was a statement instead, the conviction gripping her tight.

“I very much doubt that she is dead,” Solas said finally, but he did not deny his involvement. “She has survived worse.”

“But you stole her power,” Lyna accused. Solas only nodded slightly, but it was all the confirmation she needed. Her breath left her like he’d punched her in the gut.

“How much control do you have of me?” she asked, horrified.

“Vhenan-“ Solas began, stepping towards her.

She cut him off, stepping back. “How much, Solas?” she asked again, her words cutting through the air between them, the unspoken accusation making him flinch.

“I would never use it, vhenan,” he told her softly. “I did not mean to use it earlier, but I was not thinking.”

“You still haven’t answered the question,” Lyna observed, her voice shaking as she took another step back from him. He was silent, watching her with such a profound sadness that she wanted to retch. “Can you control my thoughts? My feelings?” she asked. “Was the reason I ran to you so quickly because of the way you gave me the information I needed to get here, or was it the geas? How can either of us know what you’ve made me do without meaning to?” He winced and looked away as though the weight of her gaze caused him pain.

“The geas can only influence actions, not thoughts,” he whispered finally, his normally proud posture sinking and slouching until he looked like a whipped dog. “But it is possible that I unconsciously made you hurry. Ir abelas.”

“You told me once that you respected Mythal,” Lyna said harshly, accusingly. “You said that she was the best of the Evanuris and you said it with affection. Yet you stole her power anyway?”

“I needed it in order to build what I have,” Solas said softly. “I am not proud of it, but it had to be done.” Lyna shook her head sharply beginning to pace, fury breaking through her fear.

“I’m honestly surprised that you didn’t just kill me for the Anchor while I was unconscious when I fell out of the Fade!” she cried, throwing her head in the air. She didn’t see the way he flinched sharply and turned green as though he was about to be sick. “What won’t you do, Solas?” she asked him harshly. “Who won’t you sacrifice for this goal? Would you kill me now, if I stood in your way? What about your son? Where does your ambition end?”

“It is not ambition!” he cried, finally responding and meeting her gaze. “It is a duty. _I_ caused the elves to become what they are, shells of their former selves, oppressed and beaten down. This world is _my_ doing and I must fixit.”

“You would have destroyed it if not for me!” Lyna yelled, rounding on him. “Or will you still? Are you even planning to try to find a way to bring the Veil down gently? Or will you simply proceed as you’d planned before?”

“I did not lie to you! I _will_ find a way to spare as many lives as possible,” he told her intently, stepping toward her again.

“What were you planning before I suggested that?” she asked him, somewhat unfairly. “Would you have allowed all the people you’ve gathered here to _burn in the raw chaos?_ ” Solas flinched again at the words he had once spoken to her. Neither of them noticed that the others had gathered at the door into the chamber where they stood and were watching with wide eyes. “And me? Would I have died a horrible death as you went about your plan? What about the son you didn’t even know about? You didn’t stay even long enough to know that I was pregnant. Would you have sacrificed him, too? If I hadn’t hounded you in the Fade as I did, if I hadn’t reached out to you even though I knew you’d turn away each and every time, if I hadn’t forced my presence on you in my desperation to tell you that you had a son, would you have just allowed us both to burn?”

Solas strode to her, a thunderous look on his face, and Lyna spared a thought to remember that she was screaming at and accusing the cruel trickster god of her people and feel a spike of anxiety before remembering that he was Solas. His hands clamped down on her upper arms and he dragged her against him to crush her lips under his own. It was not so much a kiss as it was a punch between their faces, though, his lips as hard and unforgiving as his expression when he pulled back to look at her.

“ _Never,”_ he whispered harshly, barely an inch from her face. He forced his fingers to loosen slightly when she squirmed, but he did not release her. “I had planned to guide you into uthenera just before the Veil fell. You would wake with the others once the world was remade.”

“O-others?” she asked, stammering, startled by his admission as much as the sudden change in his mood. His mouth twisted.

“The Sentinels who guarded the Well of Sorrows are not the only ones to survive the ages,” he told her softly. “Many wait in uthenera, guarded and cared for by ancient caretakers. They will wake when the Veil falls and the Fade rejoins the waking world.”

“You were planning to save me?” she finally asked in a small voice, her mind latching on to that thought.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his expression softening into sorrow once more. “And when you woke, you would have found yourself in the world you were meant for.” He released her finally and stepped back, his eyes sliding away from hers again. “And I would have been gone.”

“Gone?” she asked, frowning and feeling her stomach rise again.

“I had intended to complete my tasks, restore the world and destroy the Evanuris, and then die,” he told her.

“What?” she asked in a horrified whisper, stepping toward him. He smiled grimly.

“You are right that I have done many despicable things,” he admitted softly. “They weigh heavily on my conscience. I would have done many other terrible things before getting this far without you. I did not intend to live long enough to make any more mistakes.”

“Solas!” Lyna cried, grabbing his face to make him look at her. “That’s different now, isn’t it?” she asked desperately, searching his eyes. “I won’t let you die!” Her voice broke on the final word, all her fears coming to the surface and breath quickening. He smiled gently at her and drew her close, pressing his hand to the small of her back. With gentle fingers, he wiped away the tear that fell from her eye.

“Yes,” he whispered as she clutched him. “As long as I have you and our son I have a future.” His lips met hers again, seeking, tentative, and she responded by trying to devour him. His touch slowed her when she wanted to climb down his throat, and soon they fell into a gentle dance. His tongue carefully delved into her mouth, teasing, tasting, reminding her that he was there. The heat of his body chased the night’s chill from her limbs and she pressed herself close, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him. Her fingers dug into his scalp, nailing lightly scraping, and he bit out a delicious moan against her. She swallowed the sound, his hot breath warming her core, and his hand delved into her hair to feel the silken strands that she had released from their confining braid. The hand he had pressed against her back to keep her close slid under her shirt to feel her skin and a shiver traveled through her. With a wave of his hand the doors to the inner sanctum shut, causing a squeak and a curse to sound from just beyond.

There were still problems between them, conversations to be had, lies to be unraveled and anger to be soothed, but it was not the time. Lyna’s shaking hands pulled at Solas’s stolen tunic until she could remove it, pressing gentle kisses against his bared skin. He had washed in the waters of the oasis when they arrived, rinsing away the blood and pain and fear, and he tasted like the salt of sweat and the musk of male, delicious like he should be. Lyna’s shirt hit the floor a moment later and Solas covered her body with his, guiding her to the floor. In no time at all, they were both naked and pressed against each other.

Solas pulled back a little, releasing her mouth, and looked into her eyes. “If you wish to stop, tell me now,” he panted, his hot breath hitting her face gently as his shaking hands traced the lines of her face. She grabbed his neck and pulled him back down to bite his lips.

“Don’t ever stop,” she whispered when she released him. He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her and causing her to shiver. He bit the column of her neck gently and she gasped. One hand covered her breast and she arched into his touch, nails digging into his back. He thrust his cock against the folds of her sex, wetting the underside of his swiftly-hardening flesh there as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. Lyna moaned low, clutching him tighter, her heels digging into his ass as she encouraged his attentions and rocked her hips against him.

When his mouth fastened around her nipple, sucking on the stiff peak, she cried out and arched into him. His arms around her held her to his mouth, suspended off the floor and subject to his whims as he moaned. Through the careful application of his teeth and tongue, he quickly had her writhing in his grasp.

“Solas!” she cried desperately. “Please…” He moaned low and entered her in one swift thrust as she cried out and clenched around him.

He set a punishing pace, releasing her breast to bury his face in her neck beneath the fall of her hair. He held her by her shoulders from beneath, his arms supporting most of her weight as he dragged her down onto him with each thrust. Her legs, wrapped tight around his waist, did just as much to help her meet his strokes as he pounded into her, their skin slapping together noisily.

The ecstasy was intense after she’d spent so long terrified for him. Each thrust sent lightning and heat shooting through her, the sweat dripping from him to cover her seeming to spark against her skin. Solas’s magic began to flow softly through the room as his pleasure heightened, but instead of simply letting the magic drift she felt him guide it. A moment later she gasped and her nails bit deep in his skin as a wash of head brushed over her, then a tingling sensation. She felt as if his hands were everywhere, touching, teasing, kneading her flesh. A sharp prick of electricity touched her clit as he thrust and she screamed when she felt it, instantly coming. He moaned as her body clenched around him, his teeth scraping across her neck carefully. He continued to thrust, his magic drawing out her finish longer than she would have thought possible. Her legs clenched around him with such force that he had to shorten his thrusts because she couldn’t let him pull out any further and her nails bit into his back, tearing at his skin. The scent of his blood filled the air around them when she broke through and he groaned as he bit her neck hard. She screamed again, her orgasm renewing at the touch of cold that filled the bite. Her inner muscles fluttered, clenching and releasing with a force that almost hurt but it was too perfect to want to stop.

“Lyna,” Solas moaned around his bite, and finally followed her in orgasm. His seed pumped hot and fast into her core and the touch of his magic finally faded. She relaxed slowly, falling back into herself, the world hazy and soft around her. Solas kissed her neck and the mark he’d surely left there gently as he stilled within her. For a while they simply panted and held each other.

Then he whispered, “Ar lath ma.” She smiled and turned her face so she could tuck it into the crook of his neck.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan’ara,” she returned. He sighed heavily, his breath shuddering out of his lungs against her sweat-soaked skin. “Whatever mistakes have been made, I can forgive, given enough time.” He trembled in her arms, then began to shake, and after a moment she felt the touch of hot tears on her neck. She held him gently and shushed him, running her hands over his skin soothingly. “It won’t be easy to get used to the fact that you hold possession of Mythal’s geas, but I will. It won’t be easy to accept what you did to Flemeth, but I will. I love you, Solas. I loved you when we fought side by side to stop Corypheus. I loved you when I realized I carried your child. I loved you when you took away my arm to keep the Anchor form killing me. I loved you every time I spotted you watching me in the Fade. And every time I yelled at you, whether you were there in the moment or not, I still loved you. After all that’s happened, if my love hasn’t faded yet, it never will.” His arms tightened almost painfully around her as his tears pooled in the dip of her collarbone and streamed down onto the ground beneath them.

“I will never deserve you,” he whispered brokenly.

“It isn’t about what you think you deserve,” she told him, running her hands up and down his back in soothing strokes. “You and I will never agree on what you deserve. This is about what _is,_ what always will be. I love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you, Lyna,” he told her, pulling back to look at her with his tears drying though his eyes still gleamed. She smiled and gently wiped the tear tracks from his cheeks. He leaned into the touch and kissed her palm. “You are _everything_ I want. Ma sa’lath.”

She took a breath at the endearment, her chest warming. She was his one love, the person he cherished more than any other, and that endearment was a pledge. “Good,” she told him, smiling. She held him while he calmed, touching him just to be in contact, and once his breathing evened out and his tears had dried on her skin, she said, “We should probably get cleaned up and dressed. We need to get some sleep before we leave.” He nodded and they detangled themselves. He pulled her to her feet, but she stopped him when he would have pulled away. “Solas… Ar lath ma, ma sa’lath,” she told him. He gave her a brilliant smile before he crushed her in his arms and kissed all over her face.

There was a waterfall from the oasis that fell down the back wall of the inner sanctum into a small pool and they used it to wash away the evidence of their activities. Though Solas offered to erase the mark of his teeth with a healing spell, she declined.

“I like wearing your marks,” she admitted with a shy smile. He grinned at her and left the scratches of her nails intact on his back. Apparently, he agreed.

The others were all asleep except for Fenris, on watched by the temple doors, when Lyna and Solas rejoined them. Fenris watched them as they went to lie down and get some sleep, but he said nothing.

 

* * *

 

Solas stroked Lyna’s hair gently as she slept beside him. He loved seeing her there, peaceful and at ease with him in his bed. She was beautiful, her white hair spread around her face like a halo, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. She had one hand curled just under her chin and her face turned towards him, blankets pulled up nearly to her chin. Solas smiled gently as he ran his fingers through the silken strands of hair. She was so incredible.

He hadn’t meant to use the geas on her when she came to free him and part of him wished he could take it back, that she didn’t have to know what he had done. He shook his head at the thought, dismissing it. She deserved to know and he hated secrets between them, always had. He had vowed that there would be no more secrets and she deserved better from him after all she’d been through and all she’d done. He needed to be better for her.

A soft, complaining cry drew his attention to the crib by the window and he smiled. He needed to be better for them both. He slid out of bed as the cry turned into a wail and picked up his son out of his crib so that he wouldn’t wake his mother. The little boy calmed slowly in his father’s arms, wrapping his chubby little arms around his neck. Solas smiled and hummed to the boy.

“Did you have a bad dream, da’mi?” Solas whispered. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“Babae,” the little boy whispered, and Solas grinned. He would never get tired of that word, particularly when spoken by that little voice that was still learning to shape it. It had been his first word, spoken when Solas came home after a month-long absence. Lyna had cried with him when their son reached for him and called out that word.

“Yes, da’mi,” he murmured with a grin, wrapping the blankets tighter around the boy. “I am here. I have you.”

“Babae,” little Solas said again, relaxing into his father’s hold and sliding slowly back into sleep. Solas continued to grin as he tucked his son in gently and returned to bed. He gathered Lyna into his arms and she wrapped herself around him, melting into his touch so perfectly. Her body was made to fit against his, like she was the final piece to his puzzle.

“Solas,” she whispered softy, sleepily, nuzzling into his neck without waking. She truly was everything he wanted and only his own foolishness could drive her away.

 

* * *

 

I need some time,” Lyna said, tucking the folded clothes into a bag. Solas watched with a closed expression, his face revealing nothing. “This has been… a lot to take in. I just need to spend a little time in the real world to get my head on straight.”

“If… if you think it is best,” Solas said slowly, his voice tight and strained. Lyna sighed as she packed up her son’s diapers.

“It’s not forever, Solas,” she reminded him softly. “I just need some time to sort out my feelings. Use the time to study the orb and see if you can figure out how to lower the Veil gently.”

“I will do that,” he said, still expressionless. Lyna sighed and continued packing. Their son was sitting on the bed, watching with wide eyes. He had a little wooden rattle stuck in his mouth, gumming it with great interest to soothe the ache. His soft, dark brown hair was growing longer, the red streak at his temple easier to see. His large, violet eyes watched with interest and understanding.

Lyna finished packing and turned to Solas. “I’ll be safe,” she assured him, but his expression did not change. He was stony, revealing nothing. “I just need a little time.”

“I understand,” Solas said, and for a moment something akin to fear flickered in his eyes before he suppressed it.

“I’ll be back,” she promised softly. He nodded. His hands were clasped behind his back, his stance deceptively relaxed. With a deep sigh, Lyna gathered her bags and her son. He tottered on his little legs but followed willingly. She paused beside Solas and pressed her lips against his cheek. That broke his careful control and he turned suddenly to crush her in his arms. He buried his face in her neck beneath the fall of her hair and breathed deeply.

“Ar lath ma,” he whispered there.

“I know,” she said. “I love you, too. I just need a little time.” He released her and turned his face away, hiding from her. She sighed and ushered her son out of their room. She carried him down the stairs, then let him walk beside her as she made her way towards the eluvian.

“Lyna,” Hawke said, waiting in the courtyard with her hands wrapped around her bulging middle. “Orana is expecting you. She’ll take care of you, but let me know if you have any problems.”

“Of course,” Lyna replied, smiling a little. “Thanks for letting me use your house.” Hawke waved her away.

“It’s not like I’m using it,” she scoffed. “Try not to drink all the Aggregio, though. Fenris will kill you.” Lyna laughed a little.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. She realized then that the bottle she’d stolen months ago was still sitting in their room, untouched. She shook the thought away, unnerved by how long it had been.

“Rest well, or whatever you intend to do,” Hawke said, and waved her farewell. Lyna doubted she’d get much rest, however. Still, she wrapped her friend up in a hug and wished her well.

 

* * *

 

Solas felt his magic surge through the room with the force of his agony, the words his heart had spoken etched onto his soul.

_I need some time. I’ll be back._

_It isn’t about what you think you deserve._

_You didn’t stay even long enough to know that I was pregnant._

_Where does your ambition end?_

_You took my heart and you_ left _with it!_

_If you had just told me…_

Frost coated everything in the room as Solas let his heart break free. He bowed his head under the weight of her absence, feeling the void in his chest that she left behind. Tears began to fall from the pain of loss.

A memory surfaced of her face, streaked with soot and dirt and tear tracks, hair an utter wreck as it fluttered around her face in the wind, framed by water and ancient ruins as she stared up at him desperately, an agony that had nothing to do with the pain in her hand from the Anchor showing in her eyes. Even thus, she had been unspeakably beautiful to him.

_Solas! Var lath vir suledin!_

_I'm not giving up on you._

_Did you really think I wouldn’t have understood?_

_Ma ghilana, vhenan._

_Let me help you, Solas._

_But you would do it to yourself? I cannot bear to think of you alone!_

_This is all I’ve ever wanted._

_I do intend to marry Fen’Harel._

_Whatever mistakes have been made, I can forgive, given enough time._

_Ar lath ma, vhenan’ara._

_Babae._

The memories calmed him slightly but the frost in the room did not dissipate. She had left, though she promised she would return. She had still left. He had hurt her again and the pain of that tore through him. She would return; he knew she would, if only to keep her word. But he had hurt her and he allowed his self-loathing to tear through his chest.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiot,” a voice, feminine and cold yet also amused at the same time, spoke from across the room. Startled out of his thoughts, Solas jerked his gaze up. Kahlia was standing in front of the door to the servants’ stairs, which was open behind her. She was rubbing her hands vigorously on a rag and Solas spared a thought to wonder what she could possibly have been doing back there. “Go after her.”

“What are you-“

Kahlia rolled her eyes and interrupted him. “Go find her. Chase her down before she leaves and remind her that you love her. It won’t stop her from leaving but it will matter later. She’s angry and hurt and she doesn’t know how to feel about you. If you find her before she leaves, she’ll still go, but she’ll remember how much you care. She’ll remember that you tried. So try.”

Solas didn’t bother to question her further. The details didn’t matter in that moment because she was right. So he ran. He took the stairs to the main hall three at a time, practically flying down them in his haste. The door at the bottom slammed against the wall as he threw it open and several startled yelps sounded from people lingering in the hall as he sprinted past. When he saw her, Lyna was about to gather their son into her arms in preparation to walk through the glowing eluvian, her escort waiting patiently beside the mirror. Hawke was watching from a few paces back with worry in her bright blue eyes and her hands caressing her large middle.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Solas ran up to Lyna and enfolded her in his arms. Her breath left her in a whoosh from the force of it and their son giggled at the displace, his his face behind his hands.

"Babae!" the little boy cried delightedly, and Solas sent him a watery grin of his vhenan's shoulder.

"Solas, what are you-" Lyna asked, breathless, but he cut her off.

"Ir abelas, vhenan," Solas whispered, still holding her tight. "I am so sorry I didn't tell you. You deserve better from me and I have done little but let you down since you agreed to try again for us." With great effort, he forced himself to release her. She looked up at him, her expression worried and curious, and studied his face. She put a hand on his cheek and he leaned into her touch gratefully. "I am sorry," he told her again.

"I know," she said finally, releasing the words on a breath. She sounded like she truly did, her shoulders relaxing a little as she spoke. "I still have to go."

"I know," Solas replied, his voice uneven. He didn't bother to try to compose himself, just let her see everything he felt. He kept himself too far removed from everything and she deserved better, so he let her see. Her expression softened as she looked at him and took a deep breath. When she finally looked away, she encouraged their son to approach his father by patting him on the back gently. Solas swept him up into his arms as he toddled up.

"Babae, ar laff ma," little Solas said, his violet eyes wide and gleaming with glee. He understood only enough of what was happening to know that his parents had just shared a tender moment and he always loved seeing his parents' affection. The easiest way to make the little boy happy, Solas had discovered, was to make Lyna happy or allow her to make him happy. For a child almost a year old, he was very empathetic.

"Ar lath ma, da'mi," Solas replied, enunciating carefully to correct the boy. Then he nuzzled his son's pointed ear and said it again just to remind him that it was true. He grinned when the boy giggled and wrapped his arms tighter around his father. Then Solas handed him to his mother, who gave the boy a smile as she settled him on her hip. She said nothing else, simply turned and stepped through the eluvian. Solas watched her go, feeling the smallest bit less despairing than he had before. When he turned away to return to his work, there was a small crowd gathered by the doors into the main hall, and at the back of it was Kahlia watching him with a small smirk on her otherwise expressionless face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since my last update! I was under huge stress and had family issues to deal with and then my muse decided to take a nap. It's been a real shitshow, but I think the worst has passed. I finally finished a chapter! So here it is and hopefully they'll start coming at a slightly more reasonable pace. Thanks for sticking with me! I promise I won't abandon this story!
> 
> Part of the reason I'm struggling with this part is because I'm sort of rethinking parts of my timeline and how long I really want this to last. There were also a lot of tiny changes and alterations to make in order to correct the fluidity of the chapter and how it fits in with the rest. To be honest, the last two thousand words or so of this chapter were what sat the longest, waiting to be written. I'm hoping it was worth the wait.


	19. Esalathal

Lyna sighed heavily as she settled her son into his old crib in the room she'd stayed in before Solas came for her. Little Solas yawned hugely and snuggled with his blankets under the still-intact muffling spell. The one he had on his crib at Sa'amal'uan was better, but this would do while they were there.

She sat on the bed and scrubbed her face with her hands, pressing her palms into her stinging eyes. She could feel a headache approaching, but she hoped it would fade with dinner and some rest.

She stared around herself at the room that had been her home for about six months and thought about what her life had been. She'd come to this city with little but the clothes on her back and the babe growing in her womb, yet she had been extremely fortunate in her friends. She'd left her dignity somewhere in the maze of eluvians that she'd found herself in during the Exalted Council and her self-worth had been left at Solas's feet as he took her arm. Her eyes traveled back to her son, looking at her with wide, drooping eyes and sucking on his thumb while he slid toward sleep, and she thought about what his life might have been like if she hadn't won the battle of wills between herself and his father.

"That's not a life I want for a child of mine," she murmured to herself. She didn't realize she'd been digging her fingernails into her left arm until she released it to reach for the crystal she wore around her neck, but she frowned at the little red crescents. Solas had given her much, from the existence of her left arm to the possibility of a better life for their child. But she didn't want to rely on him for all the good things in her life. That was why she'd decided to take a break, why she'd come back to Kirkwall. She needed to prove to herself that she didn't have to rely on anyone else, that she really did choose Solas because he made her days brighter and not because she hinged her happiness on his presence.

Lyna took a steadying breath, then pulled out the little blue crystal on the silver chain that Dorian had given her shortly before he returned to Tevinter after the Exalted Council. With a small smile, she activated it.

"Dorian? Are you there? she asked softly. She hoped he'd answer; it had been nearly a year since she'd spoken to him. She hadn't used the crystal since just after her son was born and she winced at the reminder of how long she'd neglected her personal relationships.

There was a crackle of static, followed by a string of Tevine curses that made Lyna smile. "Is that you, Lyna? Kaffas, I hadn't thought to hear from you again!" Dorian cried, the crystal turning his voice a bit tinny. "I've been in touch with Varric and he told me that you disappeared months ago! The last thing I heard about you was that you simply vanished out of Kirkwall without a trace a couple months after your son was born. And then, just a couple weeks later, Hawke and Fenris vanished, too! They told Varric and the others that they were going on vacation or some bullshit, but he's only gotten two letters from them since. And he was so worried because he couldn't trace where it came from! He has no idea where any of you are! What happened?"

"Dorian, I'm fine. Hawke and Fenris are fine," Lyna said as soothingly as she could manage. "Don't worry, we're all safe. I'm back in Kirkwall right now for a few days."

"You're in Kirkwall? Then go tell Varric you're not dead!" Dorian demanded. Lyna chuckled. "This isn't funny! You dropped off the face of the planet and scared us all silly! Don't you laugh about it!" The way his voice cracked to reveal his true terror sobered Lyna and she sighed again.

"I'm sorry, Dorian. I really am. I didn't mean to just disappear. I guess I just got caught up in everything, but that's no excuse," Lyna told him earnestly. He grumbled unintelligibly. "Listen, I'd like to talk to you again, like we did before. I could really use a friend and I think I need some advice. But you have to promise me that nothing I say will ever be repeated. Not even to Bull. Okay?"

"That sounds serious," Dorian said, his ire temporarily put aside. "What's so secret that not even Bull can know?"

"I'd like to tell you," Lyna told him. "I'll tell you where I've been and why I haven't been in contact. But you have to swear no one will ever hear of it."

"I swear on my father's grave, no one will hear from me whatever you wish to tell me," Dorian said solemnly.

"Thank you," Lyna sighed.

 

* * *

 

"So," Dorian drawled once Lyna finished explaining. There was a long pause and she bit her lip, worried he was angry. "You're getting married, then?" She barked a laugh.

"I just told you that I've been with Solas all this time and that's where Hawke and Fenris are, too, and we're going to bring down the Veil, and that's what you take away?" Lyna asked, laughing still.

"Well, that's the important bit," Dorian said lightly, and Lyna could picture his careless shrug. She laughed again.

"What strange priorities you have," she told him wryly.

"But of course! If my priorities were in any other order, I wouldn't be in line to become Archon even while in a relationship with a Tal-Vashoth that is an open secret," he said. It was so casually uttered that for a moment the words didn't sink in.

"Wait," she said, shocked. "You're in line to be Archon? How?" His musical laugh sounded through their connection.

"With great difficulty," he said. "It's taken quite a few powerful allies and a lot of pressure on and from the Imperium's Divine. I wasn't thrilled when my allies insisted that it had to be me, but if that's what it takes to get my country on the proper path, then so be it."

"That's incredible, Dorian!" Lyna exclaimed.

"Now, now. It's not set in stone or anything yet," he reminded her.

"Even so, to get this far is a huge step!"

"Yes," he agreed, and in that single syllable she heard infinite weariness. The battle was tiring him and it was time to change the subject.

"So, how's Bull doing? she asked, and was rewarded by his chuckle.

"He and his Chargers have been helping us, actually," he said, his tone much lighter. "When our opposition gathers forces to try to attack us, those forces mysteriously disappear on the road." Lyna laughed.

"Sounds like him," she admitted wryly.

"Naturally," Dorian said airily.

"And when he's not making people disappear?" she asked, prodding lightly. Dorian sighed, but it was a happy sound.

"He stays at my family's villa outside Minrathous," he told her, his voice low and warm. "That's where I spend most of my time, incidentally," he admitted quietly.

"I'm so happy for you, Dorian," she told him sincerely.

"And I'm happy for you," he returned. "There aren't nearly enough happy people these days."

"I agree. So at least you and Bull are doing well."

"And you and Solas? Why _are_ you in Kirkwall, anyway?"

"Ah," Lyna said, stalling a little. Then she sighed and decided to go for it anyway. "Solas and I are... taking a break, I guess you could say."

"Might I ask why?" Dorian asked gently, and Lyna sighed again.

"You remember the Well of Sorrows, right? In the Temple of Mythal?"

"Ugh, that creepy thing. It was a valuable experience, I suppose, but I'd like to never have another one like it," he told her, and she couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"And you remember Flemeth, who is also what remains of Mythal?"

"Yes, of course. What does this have to do with Solas?" Lyna sighed.

"Solas... stole power from Flemeth. I think what he stole includes the soul of the Old God she took from Kieran, but I can't be sure. But that isn't what I'm upset about. What he stole also includes control of the geas from the Well of Sorrows. Solas has complete control of me, should he wish to exert it."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, "How did you find out?" he asked softly. She grimaced.

"He used it on me. On accident, he says, but he used it," she told him.

"What?" Dorian cried, outraged. "He forced you to do something against your will?"

Lyna sighed. "Before you get too worked up, you should know that I was in the middle of rescuing him from some of the last Venatori that haven't been captured, killed, or disbanded," she told him. "He'd been under torture for nearly a week by the time I got there, and when he saw me I suddenly put away my bow and took three steps back. It happened so fast that it took those three steps for me to fight it. Once I did, I was free of it, he released the hold."

Dorian scoffed. "You saved his life and that was how he thanked you?" he cried, still sounding furious.

"He wasn't in his right mind at the time," she soothed, aware that she was defending him and the irony of it since she was still upset. "It's not really that he accidentally exerted influence. The problem lies more in that he didn't tell me. When I went with him, when I agreed to marry him, I thought he wasn't going to keep any more secrets from me." She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with a hand. "I don't know, Dorian. How can I ever really trust him when he still keeps such important things from me? How can I be his wife and his queen when he doesn't tell me everything?"

There was a thoughtful pause before Dorian told her softly, "I think that's something only you can answer. But with everything that seems to be going on and everything he's keeping on his shoulders, it's entirely possible that it sort of slipped his mind. He may be an ancient god, but things can still slip through the cracks for him."

"I suppose," Lyna said dubiously.

"Do you love him?" Dorian asked her.

"Yes," she replied immediately. "Even though it doesn't make any sense at all and he's hurt me so much, I still love him. I always have and I always will."

Dorian chuckled. "That's how you know it's love, my friend," he told her, a smile in his voice. "It doesn't make any sense at all. It drives you crazy. It makes you question your own sanity because how could it possibly be a good idea? I still feel that way about Bull sometimes, and it's been years. So if you love him, you sould try talking to him about this, I think. Nothing was ever solved with silence." Lyna sighed.

"You are wise beyond your years, Dorian," she said wryly.

"But of course!" he exclaimed with his usual flair. "I am simply perfect in every way." She laughed, feeling a little lighter.

 

* * *

 

Lyna did not waste her time in Kirkwall brooding in a dark room. The day after she arrived she gathered her son for a walk and took him to the Hanged Man to see Varric. The dwarf had only had the chance to see little Solas twice before they both vanished. Though the Hanged Man was hardly a suitable place to bring a child, she had him wrapped in a cloak Solas had enchanted for their son to keep him safe and she trusted her ability to keep him out of harm's way until they could get away from the bar and inevitable crowd to get to Varric room. She also had a number of small knives hidden on her person, including sharp little pins that kept her hair up, and she carried her belt knife openly. She'd found that being visibly armed helped a lot with the sort of drunken idiots she encountered in Kirkwall.

When Lyna entered the Hanged Man with her son on her hip, clinging to her in his shyness, she was treated to an unexpected but familiar sight. She grinned and kept back to the wall as a woman with dark skin and darker hair who gleamed with heavy gold jewelry smashed a fist into a man's face. Another man grabbed her from behind and promptly found himself flying through the air to slam into a table. The patrons who had been seated there simply lifted their drinks as he sailed their way and moved to another table when it toppled over.

Finally, the three men had enough and retreated, all of them bleeding and bruised. The woman shook out her hand as if her knuckles hurt, then downed her cup of cheap whiskey in a single gulp, chuckling to herself. Smiling, Lyna approached her as she refilled her cup with the bottle kept near her.

"Isabela," she greeted warmly. "Still making friends the old fashioned way, I see." The Rivaini pirate choked on her alcohol as she saw who was approaching.

"Andraste's flaming butthole!" she cried, making Lyna roll her eyes.

"As original as that curse was, I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat my son to such interesting language," she said. Isabela's eyes were instantly drawn to the small figure hiding in his mother's hair.

"Ooh, is this him?" she cooed. "I didn't get to meet him before you disappeared!" She wiggled her fingers at the boy when he peeked out to look at her. "So where have you been, Lyna?" she demanded, hands on her scantily-clad hips. Lyna shook her head.

"Somewhere nice," she said, unwilling to discuss it in public, or likely at all. "I'm actually here to see Varric. Dorian says I owe him a drink and an apology, and he's probably right. You should come with me, though. I have questions."

"So do I!" Isabela cried as she followed Lyna upstairs readily. Lyna raised a fist to knock on the door to Varric's room, but Isabela brushed past her and burst in.

"Look who I found downstairs, Varric!" she cried, startling the dwarf, who was seated at his desk and busily writing. Lyna rolled her eyes again.

"Actually, _you_ were in a brawl when I came in, so technically _I_ found _you._ " she asserted, adjusting her grip on her son.

"Andraste's tits, Lyna!" Varric cried, surging to his feet.

"Will you people stop swearing in front of my son?" Lyna asked, scowling.

"Only if you tell me where you've been," he countered. She sighed heavily.

"I really can't," she told him regretfully. "It isn't my secret. And if you're my friend," she added quickly as his mouth opened, his own scowl in place, "you won't ask me to jeopardize so many lives by revealing sensitive information." She hoped that would be enough. She watched him narrow his eyes as he chewed on her words. Then he nodded at last.

"Shut the door, isabela. It's rude to barge in on people and then not even have the decency to shut the door on private conversations," he said. She complied, swaying her hips a little more than usual in her drunken state. She must have been at it a while, though it was barely noon, but it was entirely possible that she'd been drinking all night long and hadn't gone to bed at all. "I'll accept your hints for now," Varric continued once the room was secured. "Are Hawke and Fenris okay?"

"Yes, they're fine," Lyna told him, taking a seat on an overstuffed couch and settling her son beside her. "I was with Fenris recently. He helped me with... a task I had to accomplish."

"A new mother needs a powerful warrior elf who can literally feed people their own beating hearts?" Varric asked incredulously, brows raised. Lyna grimaced.

"That was an image I didn't need," she said.

"Oh, I know," Isabela drawled, draping herself across the couch beside Lyna, basically cuddling with her. "I've seen him do it, too! He showed that slaver his own heart. The look on that as- idiot's face was priceless." She censored herself from swearing when Lyna shot her a glare, though the look was really about the whole thing rather than just the language.

"In any case, he's fine," Lyna told them. "Hawke is pretty sick; the pregnancy is quite difficult. I saw her for a for a few minutes as I was leaving, but that was all she could manage. Her midwife has her activity restricted so much she's almost bedridden, but she's getting the best care there is."

"I don't suppose she'll come home anytime soon?" Isabela asked, hurt in her eyes until she looked away to hide it.

"Not before she and her baby are settled and healthy, at least," Lyna told her gently. "I don't know what her plans are, really."

"I've only gotten one letter from her," Varric said somberly. "And no word at all from you. Daisy writes sporadically, but she never says much of anything. And the only way to get a letter back to her is to give it to the very silent messenger who delivers hers. I can't trace any of the letters back to where they came from, and it was worrying me. I tried having the messenger followed, but he lost the tail before he even left Lowtown."

"I'm sorry, Varric," Lyna sighed, guilt pinching her. "It's been so hectic." She turned her eyes toward Isabela contemplatively. "Have you been hearing from Merrill?" A small smile curved her features and her dark cheeks turned ruddy.

"She's gotten very good at naughty poetry," was all the pirate said. Lyna smiled.

"Has she visited at all?"

"Isabela shook her head. "Just letters on a mostly weekly basis."

"Weekly?" Varric cried, insulted. "I get a letter maybe once or twice a month! Daisy's been gone since before I joined the Inquisition, and you didn't tell me that you get so many letters from her until now?"

"They're private!" Isabela cried in defense. "They never say anything important, just like yours. She never says where she is or what she's doing, just that she's healthy and thinking of me in very dirty ways."

"She misses you," Lyna said, thinking of the way the little elf would sometimes get a faraway look as she'd traveled with Lyna to rescue Solas and Tan'Adahla. Then she would blush whenever anyone asked what she was thinking about.

Isabela looked at her hopefully. "Does she? I mean, I know she says so in her letters, but she doesn't visit or tell me anything important and I thought maybe she was going to forget about me. Even though I usually get letters once a week, sometimes she'll go a month or more without writing, and I'm always afraid that I'll never get another one because she's forgotten me." Isabela said it all in a rush, then blushed and looked away, playing with her hair nervously.

"I can get a message to her much more quickly," Lyna offered softly. "And now there's a way for her to visit that is much quicker than it was before. Would you like me to see if she'd like to come?"

"Oh, no," Isabela said, brushing it away and trying to sound casual. Lyna sighed and turned to her son.

"Da'mi, come meet Isabela and Varric," she said to him. He leaned forward and looked at the glittering pirate with wide eyes.

"Oh, he's so cute!" Isabela crooned. Lyna stood and scooted him closer, and Isabela immediately started playing with his hair. After a moment, he reached up to touch one of her bangles. She removed it and handed it to him without hesitation, and he gazed at it with the intensity of youth. Lyna smiled as Varric came over and introduced himself to the boy.

Lyna slipped out while they were fawning over her son, and they didn't seem to notice. In a dark corner of the upper level of the tavern she fished out her communication crystal and activated it, whispering Merrill's name into it.

"Lyna?" came the soft, tinny whisper. "Is something wrong?"

"No, Merrill," she whispered, voice kept low so she wouldn't be overheard. "I'm in Kirkwall, and Isabela is here. She misses you a lot. I was thinking it would do you both some good to see each other.

"She's in Kirkwall?" Merrill asked, sounding excited. Lyna smiled.

"She is. She's currently at the Hanged Man admiring my son, if you'd like to come see her."

"I... Would she like that? Are you sure?"

"i really think she'd like to see you," Lyna assured her. There was a brief silence.

"I'll be there before dark," she said at last, making Lyna grin. "Can you make sure Isabela stays where she is?"

"That won't be difficult. She's probably attempting to teach my son dirty limericks right now," Lyna joked and heard Merrill giggle. "Come to Varric's rooms in the Hanged Man."

"I will!" The connection was severed and the crystal went dark, no longer glowing with its magic, and Lyna returned to her friends, pleased with herself.

When she got back, Varric was dancing with little Solas while Isabela used the table as a drum and hummed off-key. She grinned, watching her little boy laugh as Varric spun him around. She sat back on the couch and watched the display. When little Solas started to stumble, dizzy, Varric nudged him in her direction.

"Gara'ma, da'mi," she crooned, and swept him into her arms.

"Mamae, durgen'lin ma'enasta," he told her happily as he wrapped his little arms around her and held on tightly.

"Ah, ar eolasa, da'vhenan," she replied with a smile.

"Merrill esalathal Isabela?" Lyna chuckled and nodded. He was so bright and so empathetic for such a young child. "Ethal'lan." She grinned at him.

"Na'emma lath," she told him, nuzzling her nose against his. He giggled and tugged her hair liked he used to do when he was younger. She gave him a look. "Venavis, da'mi," she admonished, and he released her, pouting. She kissed his nose and he smiled again.

"Okay, what just happened?" Isabela asked, looking between Lyna and her son.

"Solas speaks Elvhen a bit better than he speaks Trade," she told them. "He understands Trade well enough, but he doesn't like speaking it. Elvhen comes to him more naturally." Varric scoffed, but it was good-natured.

"Well, considering who his dad is, that makes sense," he said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Babae lath em!" Solas cried, shooting Varric a slightly frantic look.

"Shh," Lyna soothed, rocking him lightly. "Babae na'lath," she assured him. He settled, but he looked unhappy with Varric.

"Sorry, kid," he said, though he clearly didn't understand why his words had upset little Solas. Lyna couldn't explain without telling them more than she was willing to, so she let it rest at that.

"It's alright, Varric," Lyna said with a slightly embarrassed smile as she chose to explain her son's use of language rather than his outburst. "Elvhen is a language of subtlety, in which intent often matters more than the words that are spoken. It's why direct translations of ancient Elvhen texts are next to impossible without a lot of context, and sometimes even then. My son prefers the language because he can say more while speaking less, and there are a lot of Elvhen terms that don't directly translate but mean a lot to the People. He's still young and doesn't much care for speech. He prefers to listen."

"I suppose that makes sense," Isabela mused, tilting her head at the boy. "It is a beautiful language, though." Solas nodded solemnly and Isabela grinned. "I always love it when Merrill speaks it while we're intimate. I don't understand a word of it, but it's just so lovely to hear. It rolls off her tongue like the finest wine, and she knows how to drive me wild with it! For all I know she's cursing at me, but it's so beautiful that I don't mind!" Lyna laughed.

"I very much doubt that Merrill is cursing at you when she speaks it to you," she argued. "Does she says words like 'haurasha?' Maybe 'ina'lan'ehn?'"

"I think so?" Isabela said uncertainly. "It's sort of hard to remember when it all spills out at once and I'm a bit preoccupied." Lyna chuckled.

"If you hear those words, she's talking dirty," she told the other woman.

Both of them chuckled, but Isabela got that glazed look of longing again after a few moments.

"She misses you, too," she told the pirate again, but Isabela didn't respond. She simply looked away.

"So what have you been up to, Varric? More books? Shenanigans?" Lyna asked, both to change the subject and to pry for information.

"Books, mostly," he answered. "Cassandra managed to convince me to continue Swords and Shields. At this point, she's really the only one who gets a copy. My publisher wants nothing to do with it." Lyna laughed.

"It _is_ pretty bad," she said wryly, and he grinned.

"I know. But it makes Cassandra happy, and I owe her, so I write it for her." He shrugged. "I've also been practically strong-armed into writing a follow-up to my book about the Inquisition. My publisher sent my literal piles of letters, both fan mail and his own, begging for more information. He buried me with it until I agreed. It was probably a mistake to give in. Next time he'll expect even more from me." Lyna chuckled at his dark look while Solas listened with wide eyes and rapt attention.

"What about your duties as Viscount?" she asked, and he grimaced.

"I hate being Viscount," he growled, and she grinned. "The seneschal tried for months to get me to live in that monstrosity in Hightown. I told him where to shove it and flat out refused, so here I am, desite multiple attempt to steal my stuff in the middle of the night to put it where he thinks it belongs. I still have to go there to receive dignitaries and stuff like that, but most of the work I have to do I can do right here."

"At least you're comfortable," she consoled, shifting her son in her arms.

Their small talk continued for a while, catching up and exchanging news, until they were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

"That better be the drinks I ordered two hours ago!" Varric called as he went to the door. "Holy shit, it's Daisy!" he cried when he opened it, and Merrill ducked her head shyly with a small smile. She was dressed nicely in a soft, form-fitting gown in a classic Elvhen style. It wrapped around her body, essentially just a very long sash that left one shoulder bare as well as her toned legs from mid-thigh down. The deep green cloth accented her eyes, and it was held together high at her waist by a golden sash, and a gold brooch that Lyna recognized as one Isabela used to wear held the two ends of the cloth together between her small breasts, with golden foot wraps to match the sash wrapped around her calves above her knees. She was dressed to impress, and it was entirely for Isabela's benefit.

"Kitten?" Isabela asked softly, seeming on the verge of tears. "You're here?" Merrill stepped into the room and Lyna saw Varric slip out the door as he shut it behind her. He knew a private reunion when he saw one.

"I'm here," she said, slowly approaching her lover. Isabela stood and rushed over to her to snatch the smaller woman up in her arms, making her grin and relax as they embraced tightly.

"Where have you _been,_ Kitten?" Isabela asked, her voice thick.

"I can't tell you," Merrill said, tears flowing from her closed eyes. "But I've been thinking about you every moment I've been away."

Lyna stayed quiet, eyes averted from the scene, until they finally released each other, then she addressed Merrill. "You could extend an invitation, if you wish," she suggested. "The usual rules must be followed, but you could offer."

"But... it would be restrictive," Merrill said softly, frowning. She switched to Elvhen so that she could say what she meant without Isabela understanding. _"I can't ask her to give up her freedom for me,"_ she said mournfully, while Isabela frowned and tried to follow the conversation. _"You don't know how much she needs the freedom to move and travel and sail."_

 _"It is entirely possible for her to work as an agent, as you do,"_ Lyna reminded her in the same language. The mage's head tilted in thought. _"And if she does, you could work side by side for the most part."_

"You're right," Merrill said in Trade, a hopeful light in her eyes.

"What's going on, Kitten? Why all the secrecy?" Isabela asked, frowning in confusion. Merrill looked at Lyna.

"Will you help me explain? I'm not good at these things," she requested. Lyna smiled softly and nodded while Merrill breathed a sigh of relief and led Isabela to the couch to sit. "I'm going to tell you where I've been and what I've been doing," she began. "Then I'm going to offer for you to come with me. It's... different from anything you might expect, but it's fulfilling and important. And we could be together. And you wouldn't be stuck in a city again, like you were when you were shipwrecked. You could still travel and go to beautiful, remote places that no one has seen in centuries. Or you could travel cities and towns and even sail. And I could be with you."

"Kitten, this sounds wonderful," Isabela enthused, holding Merrill's hands tightly in her own. "Why do you sound so nervous about it?"

"There are rules about it," she said, ducking her head but keeping her eyes on her lover's. "A lot of secrecy. It can be lonely, sometimes, but maybe not so much if we're together. And it's real work. We'd be traveling, but we'd always have a purpose, some goal to accomplish. It wouldn't be quite the same as the freedom you have now, and I don't want you to give that up for me." She finally looked away shyly, but Isabela caressed her cheek and urged her to look at her again. When she did, Isabela kissed her softly, making her squeak while little Solas giggled softly.

"Isabela esalathal Merrill," he whispered up at his mother. She smiled at him and nodded, and he grinned at her before settling against her side to take a nap.

"Kitten, I'd give up sailing entirely for you," Isabela said softly when she finally released Merrill's lips. The elf gasped in shock.

"I-I'd never ask that!" she stammered. "Y-y-you deserve f-freedom, and you l-love sailing-"

"I love you more," the pirate interrupted, and Merrill grinned, happy ears slipping from her eyes.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan," she whispered, and Isabella grinned back.

"I know what that one means," she said. "I love you so much." They kissed again and Lyna smiled.

"So tell me where we're going!" Isabela cried excitedly.

"We're going to see the Dread Wolf," Merrill answered, her eyes siding to Lyna. "I couldn't have invited you before. Humans weren't allowed," she explained guiltily. "But Fen'Harel has a son and a fiancée now, and he's been convinced to allow human children and spouses of elves to join us."

"You mean the literal Dread Wolf?" Isabela asked, looking shocked. She turned to Lyna to ask, "You're talking about the ancient god who knocked you up?"

Lyna rolled her eyes. "I'm going to marry him," she told her. "Earlier, when little Solas was upset by Varric's comment about him, what he said translates most directly to 'Father loves me.' He was telling Varric that he doesn't appreciate his words, and that his father has been very caring and loving to him. And he was right. Solas is a wonderful father, when he's home. He spends as much time in the field as his agents, though. Perhaps more."

"Babae lath em," little Solas stated with conviction before putting his thumb back in his mouth. Lyna smiled at him and stroked his soft, dark curls.

"He's been spending more time at Sa'amal'uan since you came, though," Merrill said, and Lyna looked at her, surprised. "I know it doesn't seem like he's there often, but he used to hardly ever come back from his searching. I think he wanted to stay busy so he wouldn't have as much time to miss you." Lyna looked away, not quite sure what to think of that. "Besides, we're nearing our goal at last," Merrill continued. She looked at Isabela as she continued to explain. "There might be... damage, from what we're doing. We're trying to bring down the Veil, restore our world to what it should be. We're taking every precaution possible. Lyna is even putting together a council so we can interact with the other peoples of Thedas and help them adjust to the changes. But still, there will be quite an upheaval. I want to protect you from it, and I can really only do that if you come with me."

"Oh, Kitten, you want to protect me?" Isabela asked, her eyes wet. "You're so lovely," she sighed dreamily as Merrill smiled. "If I come with you, do I get to dress like that?" she asked, raking her gaze across her lover. "It's so sexy." Merrill giggled and crossed her ankles self-consciously.

"If you want to," she said shyly.

"Then let's go help the Dread Wolf change the world, and get me a few of those dresses," she declared, standing.

"Are you sure?" Merrill asked, gazing up at her in concerned surprise. "Shouldn't you take some time to think about it?"

"What's to think about?" Isabela asked with a shrug. "I'm _bored._ And besides, as long as I'm with you, I don't care where we are. This is important to you, so that makes it important to me." Merrill's eyes misted over again and she threw herself into Isabela's arms.

"Ar lath ma," she whispered over and over.

"I know, Kitten. I love you, too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plenty of excuses, but none that I'll bore you with. Please enjoy this hilariously late chapter!
> 
> Translations:  
> Gara'ma - come to me  
> durgen'lin ma'enasta - the dwarf approves of me  
> ar eolasa - I know  
> Merrill esalathal Isabela - Merrill is courting Isabela  
> Na'emma lath - You are my love  
> Babae lath em - Father loves me  
> Babae na lath - Father loves you


	20. Break

Lyna's dreams that night were more akin the memories than her usual dreams, an odd turn of events for one who had spent so much time learning to navigate the Fade. She found herself swept up in the current, as she sometimes still was when her focus wasn't what it should be to control the Fade around her.

In this dream she was watching one of her memories play out as an observer would. She saw the beautiful, crumbling ruins and the waterfalls that had once been carefully contained but which time had set free. She saw herself, wrapped in dirty and torn armor and stumbling with exhaustion, come upon Solas as he turned the Viddisalla to stone.

"Solas," the memory of herself called, and was almost immediately interrupted by the Anchor sparking painfully in her hand. She watched herself scream in pain and fall to her knees, saw Solas's eyes glow with power as he calmed the Anchor for her so that they could speak. He was just as resplendent as she remembered in his gleaming silver armor and the soft pelt wrapped around it. Even though she had seen him in that armor many times since that day, it didn't make it any less beautiful to her eyes as it caught the sun and shattered the light into a million fragments. He was so different that day than he'd ever been before, and she saw him again as though for the first time. When he was with the Inquisition, when he was her lover, he'd gone to great length to seem small and done a very good job of blending into the woodwork. The man before her seemed all but incapable of the subtlety he'd shown before, his posture straight and proud as he walked with ease, like a king. In that moment, as he approached her slowly, calmly, she had not doubted at all that he was the Dread Wolf, as her travels had revealed.

"You're the Dread Wolf," she'd told him with conviction. She knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, who he was at last, and he'd seemed surprised for a moment and hesitated to respond before a tiny smile quirked his lips.

"Well done," he said at last, as he had so often when they'd been studying together and she'd made a particularly clever discovery. For a moment she'd almost felt like they were back in the rotunda at Skyhold as he smiled gently at her.

"What is the old Dalish curse?" he mused softly, glancing away. "May the Dread Wolf take you?"

"And so he did," she'd mourned, his sorrowful gaze returning to her.

"I did not," he disputed softly. "I did not lay with you under false pretenses." And she understood now, watching the memory, what he meant. He'd been with her as Solas, just Solas, and Fen'Harel had no part in what they'd shared, in the creation of their son.

"But you lied to me," she said, her anger bubbling up. "I loved you. Did you really think I wouldn't have understood?" She would have. If he'd told her at almost any point in time when they'd been at Skyhold, she would have understood. She would have kept his secrets, would have welcomed him into her bed just the same. She would have let the Dread Wolf take her in any way he wished, and she would have claimed him in return. Who he once was didn't change who he had become to her. She loved him, and even this couldn't change that, as she'd proven already by joining him.

"Ir abelas, vhenan," he said softly, hanging his head as he looked away. She felt his regret like a tangible thing, permeating the air of the dream, almost a flavor on her tongue.

He answered her questions easily and without hesitation, something he had never done before, not like this. He would talk with her for hours about the Fade and spirits and politics and the Inquisition, but she could never get him to reveal much about himself and his past. Finally, he was an open book to her, and she took full advantage as he explained who he was and why he'd acted as he had.

"If you had just told me..." she lamented. She wouldn't have hated him if he'd told her, she wouldn't have feared. She would have done exactly as she had, but there would have been no reason for him to flee after Corypheus was dead and his orb destroyed. He could have been there when she first discovered the life growing inside her.

"Then you would carry the same burden I do," he said, and though his face remained stoic his eyes burned with a desperation he'd never seen, his voice weighted with more emotion than one man could carry.

"I want to. Ma ghilana, vhenan," she told him honestly. She wanted to be with him, she loved him, and even knowing this didn't change that. He was still her Solas, no matter what else he was, and she could help him, save him as he had saved her.

"I cannot do that to you, vhenan," he told her, his voice betraying how much he wanted to as much as the old endearment did. He still loved her, and her heart had fluttered, hope taking root.

"But you would do it to yourself?" she asked, perplexed. She tried to reach for him, but he stepped smoothly beyond her grasp. At the time all she could think was that he was always just out of reach, but watching the memory she got the distinct impression that he wouldn't be able to maintain his composure if she touched him. "I cannot bear to think of you alone!" she cried. In the dream, Lyna watched herself clench her jaw in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of tears. Tears would do no good, she'd known, and would only make matters worse, but her body had nearly demanded them, and she shook with the force of the sobs she held back. Watching the memory, she saw herself shaking and knew he probably thought it was physical pain or exhaustion.

And she watched his expression soften as he looked at her, heard her pleas. She could see how much he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her close, could see how her own hands pressed against her belly, begging the life inside her to hold on through all this stress and pain and all the fighting she had done. Four months pregnant was not a good time for combat, but she'd had no choice. She watched the memory and he didn't seem to notice the gesture, or perhaps mistook its purpose.

"I walk the din'anshiral. There is only death on this journey," he said, his voice low and rough. Perhaps he had been holding back his own tears at the time.

"If that is what it takes to be with you," she said, stepping forward determinedly.

"No," he'd said, harsh and commanding enough to make her freeze in her tracks. "You deserve better," he continued, his voice much softly. It didn't disguise the fact that his first response had been fear, though of what she hadn't been able to guess at the time.

She watched her own expression fall as she realized there was nothing she could say to sway him. Even the life inside her, so she had thought, would not change his mind. Her dreaming self watched as the Anchor flared up again and sent her to her knees in indescribable agony. He stepped closer, then seemed to hesitate, her pain written on his face, something she hadn't seen before that told her how affected he had been by her presence and her pain. Tears gathered in his eyes before he blinked them away as she struggled to voice one last promise to him.

"Solas! Var lath vir suledin!" she cried, looking up at him through the haze of her own tears. She remembered that moment vividly, remembered that she hadn't been crying because of her own pain but rather because of his. Her desperate desire to be with him, to protect him, had been so vast that it had overflowed and trickled down her face as tears.

"I wish it could, vhenan," he said, moving closer. His hand held hers, a gentle touch as he moved closer, and she watched her as her eyes closed and she desperately tried to keep him there through her will alone.

His eyes, however, did not close. They flared with magic as he took her arm from her, then he simply seemed to watch her face as he kissed her softly, desperately, one last time. Then he stood, releasing her though she leaned toward him as he retreated.

"I will never forget you," he vowed, then he turned away. In the dream, she expected to stay with her remembered self, but instead she found herself following him through the eluvian. Reality warped and then she was standing beside him in the Crossroads, blinking in confusion. He stopped moving once the eluvian went dark, and she circled him to see his face. He was motionless, like a statue, and for a moment she wanted to reach out and shake him.

At last he moved, but only to fall to his knees as his tears flowed freely. He braced one hand on the ground and pressed the heel of the other against his face as great sobs tore through him, wracking his body in his grief. He did not look like the proud and powerful mage king any longer, but simply like a man who had his heart ripped out.

"Vhenan," he choked out, his tears pooling on the ground as he leaned over. "Vhenan, ma Lyna, ir abelas, ma sa'lath. Ma vhenan'ara." He continued to speak, but the words were lost to his sobs as he mourned for her.

Lyna couldn't take it anymore. Even though it was just a dream, just a memory, her heart hurt for him and she knelt to wrap her arms around this image of the man she loved and pressed her lips against his head. The memory froze around her once she interacted with it and she felt an odd sense of observation as her skin prickled with awareness.

"Ir abelas. You were not meant to see this." Solas's voice sounded from all around her, carefully flat and devoid of emotion. She looked up and searched around herself frantically, looking for him. "I did not know you were here."

The dream shattered before she could reply, and she gasped as she sat up in bed.

 

* * *

 

With her bags slung across her shoulders and her son in her arms to keep him out of the muck that was Darktown, Lyna navigated the tunnels of the undercity. She noticed the shadow that peeled away from the wall as she passed, but only because she was looking for it, and she pretended not to see. She'd been shadowed every time she left Hawke's house ever since she arrived, but she knew why. Agents of Fen'Harel would likely protect her no matter where she went in the world, and she couldn't begrudge Solas for wanting to keep her safe.

She turned into the empty part of the city's underbelly, where it would be harder for her shadow to follow discreetly, and decided to give him a break. "Fen'Harel enaste," she said over her shoulder, her eyes finding the figure easily in the shadows. "Ena." There was a pause, then her shadow revealed himself. He was a slight thing, dressed in rags to blend into the area but too clean to truly belong.

"You knew I was there?" he asked unhappily. She smiled encouragingly.

"I was looking," she assured him as her son waved at the boy. "You seem a bit young for this sort of work," she observed as she continued walking. The boy looked barely old enough to be left unsupervised.

"That's why I'm perfect for it," he told her cheerfully, falling into step beside her. "I'm short and have a young face, but I'm actually not too far from your age." She raised her brows in surprise, but he only grinned. "That's why I work the big cities. No one expects someone who looks like a child to know how to defend themselves as well as all our agents can. And I'm best with daggers and throwing knives, and they're easily hidden from sight."

"Not with pants cinched that tight," Lyna observed, eyeing the lines made by his blades in his waistline. "Try covering them with a tunic or something," she suggested. "A professional would notice those blades right away."

Hands smoothed over the ragged fabric and he grimaced. "I'll do that. Ma serannas, my lady." They reached the hidden door and it opened for her to reveal the small room with the eluvian and its guard, who bowed and moved aside to let her enter.

"Are you going home, my lady?" her shadow asked.

"I am," she told him with a smile.

He grinned and stuck his thumbs in his pockets. "Safe trip! I'll see about blending in a little better." He gave a cheerful wave as he wandered off.

"Making friends with your tail, my lady?" the guard asked wryly, a smile on his lips, and she grinned at him.

"It's been a while, Lahnehn," Lyna greeted. "How have you been?" He rolled his eyes.

"Exceptionally bored with this post," he replied, and jerked his head toward the books and blanket he had left against one wall. "But someone has to do it. Just a week before I rotate, thankfully." He activated the eluvian for her. "Need a guide?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful, but she smiled and shook her head.

"I know my way well enough by now," she told him, and stepped through the glowing mirror with a last farewell.

Solas whined and wiggled in her arms. _"Mamae, I don't like it here,"_ he complained in Elvhen. Lyna sighed and shifted him in her arms.

_"I know, da'mi, but it is the only way home,"_ she reminded him. He whined again and then was quiet, resting his head on her shoulder and scowling as they traversed the disintegrating paths of the Crossroads. Lyna couldn't help but wonder if they would be restored when the Veil fell, and hoped they would; the Crossroads were incredible even as ruins and she hoped to see them vibrant again.

When they reached the eluvian that would take them to Sa'amal'uan's gardens, Lyna took a breath to steady herself. Time apart and contact with her friends had given her a better perspective on her anger, gave her time to miss her lover, but they would need to talk in depth before she could slide comfortably back into life at his side.

The gardeners looked up in surprise when she entered, and the guards sheathed their weapons as they bowed. She smiled at anyone who looked her way and nodded to the guards, but didn't stop to chat as she headed inside.

"Lord Fen'Harel is in his rooms, my lady," one of the guards offered with a shallow bow.

"Thank you," she said as she headed through the main hall. Those who lingered there smiled and offered the same shallow bow the guard had. SHe smiled and nodded in return before she closed the door to the stairs behind her.

Little Solas struggled in her grip. "Mamae!" he complained, so she put him down and let him walk up the stairs himself. He was huffing and puffing by the time they made it to the top, but he didn't complain about it, and when she opened the door for him he ran inside.

"Babae! Babae!" he cried, making a bee line for his father, who looked up from his desk in surprise before grinning and sweeping his son into his arms.

"Ah, da'mi!" he exclaimed, kissing his son's face as he giggled with glee. Lyna smiled and dumped her bags to deal with later, watching her son sloppily try to kiss his father back before he settled int ohis embrace. When Solas's gaze found her it was intense, full of love and pain.

"Vhenan," he said simply, and the dept of his love and regret was plain in that single word. She smiled as she approached, but he stayed still, as though one wrong move would scare her off. She put a hand on his jaw and tilted his face down so she could kiss him, their son embraced between their bodies. Solas returned the kiss gently, carefully, as though she might shatter despite the desperate energy pouring from him that spoke of a need to devour her.

"Ma sa'lath," she greeted, and the tension drained from his body as he offered a tender smile.

"Where is the crib?" she asked with a frown as she looked around the room. The space where it had been was now filled with a book case that held some of the overflow from their collection, which had been added to since Lyna had joined Solas.

"He is getting older now," Solas said, oddly shy, and gestured with his chin to the back corner of the room. Near the servant's stair Lyna noticed a painted wooden screen that sectioned off the corner and hid it from view. It was beautiful, painted with a design of a wild, untamed forest in a style she knew well. She smiled at Solas in surprise as she approached it and touched it gently. She hadn't known that he painted screens, but it was lovely. "The screen bears the spell that his crib did, since he can now stand and stick his head outside the spell. If you preferred it the way it was I can move it back."

"No, that sounds wonderful," Lyna said, smiling at Solas. "It's very beautiful." His smile was small and relieved and almost shy, and she could tell he was still waiting for the axe to drop.

At that moment, little Solas yawned hugely and snuggled into his father. "Nap time, da'mi," Solas crooned softly as he carried his son to the crib nestled behind the screen. Lyna followed, both curious about the new set up and because she loved to watch father and son together. Behind the screen was the crib, as promised, and she watched with a smile as Solas settled his son and tucked him in gently before kissing his forehead.

They retreated quietly into the main room, where Lyna settled in one of the chairs before the fireplace, yet unlit, and Solas sat across from her. From there it was a bit awkward as she attempted to gather her thoughts and Solas waited patiently for her to speak.

"The agent I asked to keep you safe in Darktown tells me you spotted him," Solas offered when she still didn't say anything.

She chuckled. "Every time I left the house I was tailed, and I knew it," she admitted. He ducked his head but offered no apologies. "I don't mind. I know you were just trying to make sure I was safe." His relief was palpable that she felt no ire, and they were quiet again for a few moments.

"Did I stray into your dreams last night, or did you stray into mine?" Lyna asked finally.

"I am uncertain," Solas said, frowning in thought. "It was not my intention that you witness that, at the very least, but whether it began in your dreaming or in mine is unclear." Lyna nodded.

"I know that much, at least," she said, watching him, considering. "Is that really what happened once you left?" she asked softly, and he glanced away.

"Yes," he admitted, and she sighed heavily. Then she stood and approached him as he watched her the way a rabbit watched a hawk, until she settled herself on the arm of his chair.

"My reaction was quite similar," she told him softly. "It was quite a while before I was able to make my way back to the Winter Palace." He smiled softly.

"I did not return to my people for three days," he whispered, as though he might shatter the air by speaking any louder.

She put a hand on his cheek just for the pleasure of touching him, just because she could, and he pressed a kiss into her palm. "I left because I needed to think," she said, finally getting to the heart of things. "I needed to figure out exactly why I was angry, and what I need to do about it." He listened attentively even though he couldn't seem to meet her gaze. "I'm not angry because you exerted influence over me," she told him. "I know you wouldn't do that on purpose. I'm angry because you didn't tell me that you could. I came with you, built this life with you, agreed to marry you under the belief that there would be no more lies or secrets. And that's why I'm angry; I feel betrayed." He bowed his head, seemingly under the weight of her words.

"It was never my intention to betray your trust," he said softly, his voice rough and a little hoarse. "There has been so much going on, so much we both must attend to, that I suppose I forgot to mention it. That is no excuse, and I am sorry." Lyna sighed.

"I had a feeling that might be it," she admitted wryly. "There is so much that you've seen and done in your long life that I doubt I'll ever know all of it, even just all of the important things. And we never did go over everything that happened while we were apart. I never asked, so you never thought to tell me."

"I have made many mistakes, vhenan," he told her. "But there is none I regret more than betraying the faith you once had in me."

"Whatever else is true of you, Solas, I love you. Is that not a testament to the good in you?" she asked him seriously. He searched her gaze and then slowly, gently, cupped her face in his hand.

"I think it is more a testament to the good in you, vhenan," he replied intently. "You are able to love a man who has hurt you deeply and repeatedly, who has done many despicable things and would have done many more without your influence." He shook his head sadly. "I have never done anything to make me worthy of your love." Lyna gripped the hand he held her with and wrapped the other around the back of his neck as though to trap him, as though her words would stick better through that contact.

"We've talked about this, Solas," she reminded him, leaning in to rest her forehead against his. "It isn't about what you think you deserve, and we will never agree on that. I do not see in you what you see. You've made mistakes, yet. You've hurt me. But always you are striving to be better, to do better, and that matters. The mistakes you've made were done with good intentions, when you were trying to help, right a wrong, and you simply chose the wrong path. Everyone chooses the wrong path sometimes, and I suppose that with an essentially unlimited amount of time in which to live and make choices, you would choose the wrong path more often that we small, short-lived creatures simply because you have more paths to choose."

Solas sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I will endeavor not to make this particular mistake again, ma sa'lath," he vowed. "Though I am not certain at the moment if there is anything else I've forgotten to tell you." She smiled.

"Well, if you do recall anything important, don't hesitate to tell me," she said. "It is the waiting to break bad news that hurts the most." He nodded.

"You are quite right, of course." They were silent for a few moments, just enjoying each other's presence and proximity, then Lyna leaned in and brushed her lips against his. They were soft and electric as always, and she loved it, loved the way he gave a ragged groan and pulled her as close as she could get to kiss her fiercely. She loved that his tongue pressed into her mouth and coaxed her to open, that his hand tangled in her hair while his other kept her close by her waist. She loved that his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck to taste the skin there before biting into it softly.

"I am home, ma sa'lath," Lyna whispered as her nerves caught fire. "Take me to bed?" Before she'd even finished the question, Solas had stood and scooped her into his arms to do just that.

The bed was soft beneath her back as he laid her down upon it, their furs brushing her skin. His eyes lingered on her as he stripped himself with haste so that he could cover her body with his own. Yet instead of removing her clothing with the same haste he slowed, kissing every inch of skin he could before slowly pushing her dress up, letting his hands run over her flesh before he pulled the garment off her. She couldn't help but smile as she watched his eyes grow dark with lust and his kisses turn possessive.

She loved that possessiveness in him, which they both felt. She loved that she could dig her nails into his back and scream that he was hers and it would make him shake with pleasure. She loved that he would pull her tight against him and growl into her ear that she belonged to him and it would make her cry his name as pleasure flooded her belly.

By the time their son was fussing with boredom in his crib, they were boneless with pleasure. Solas slid out of bed before she could with a smile to move his child to his play area, and they sat entwined with each other as they played with their son.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised this chapter ages ago, but the smut at the end tried to defeat me. I had to let it, or I'd never get this damn chapter up.


End file.
